


Beneath The Stars

by Chtuluchilipie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Awkward Meetings, Baby Frodo, Drabbles, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Greek gods, M/M, Modern AU, Persephone AU, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Short Stories, Shy!Thorin, Smut, True Love, WIP, ancient mythos, eternal love, one shot series, one shots, several different aus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chtuluchilipie/pseuds/Chtuluchilipie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was no fool.</p><p>He knew exactly what it meant, what he was doing. No matter the guilt and confusion that would be spurned from it by others, he knew what he was doing, and more than that; he wanted it. He knew precisely who Thorin Oakenshield was the first moment he laid his eyes on the impressive figure. The tallest dwarf he'd ever seen, with long jet hair and piercing blue eyes and a lovely beard. The dwarf was none other than the King of the Underworld, and he was simply awful. He was a fearsome sight to behold. A tall and beautiful creature dripping in his own majesty.  Hair darker than the night, eyes so sharp and blue they felt like an iced lake, piercing with a thin layer of intensity covering the depths that lingered below. His hair was a tangled mane of long strands that blew gently in the wind, tangling in his face, covering small amounts of the blood splattered there. This King, this dwarf was awful, and vile and terrible; the master of death. And Bilbo wanted him.</p><p>A series of oneshots and drabbles, mostly bagginshield, with a bit of killel here and there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Darkness Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for choosing this fic out of the possible thousands, I appreciate it! This is a oneshot series of drabbles and one shots and ficlets, some chapters will have sequels, and all of my drabbles are going here, even if I plan on developing them into large multi-chartered fics.  
> The first one is the Persephone-Hades myth with my own little twist.  
> Some are killel, but most will be bagginshield, because they're my OTP.
> 
> There are only five planned chapters at this point, and I will take requests for more myths/legends for this series.

Bilbo Baggins was no fool.

He knew exactly what it meant, what he was doing. No matter the guilt and confusion that would be spurned from it by others, he knew what he was doing, and more than that; he _wanted_ it. He knew precisely who Thorin Oakenshield was the first moment he laid his eyes on the impressive figure. The tallest dwarf he'd ever seen, with long jet hair and piercing blue eyes and a lovely beard. The dwarf was none other than the King of the Underworld, and he was simply awful. He was a fearsome sight to behold. A tall and beautiful creature dripping in his own majesty. Hair darker than the night, eyes so sharp and blue they felt like an iced lake, piercing with a thin layer of intensity covering the depths that lingered below. His hair was a tangled mane of long strands that blew gently in the wind, tangling in his face, covering small amounts of the blood splattered there. This King, this dwarf was awful, and vile and terrible; the master of death. And Bilbo wanted him. 

Oh Gods! How he wanted him.

Bilbo did love his flowers and his garden and the warmth of his home, but he hungered for something the Shire could not provide to him. The warmth of the earth was certainly lovely, and the gentle hum that surrounded him in his mother's forests was calming, but it was not enough. Bilbo was different than the other hobbits, he craved the darkness, danger and the adventure that came with it, he desired it more then anything. This dwarf was everything Bilbo ever wanted. A life closer to the darkness that always called to him, a step closer to the danger he admired, the freedom he desperately craved, all wrapped up neatly into a beautiful package that was Thorin.

It wasn't just the darkness itself, the tight shroud of shadows that called him to Thorin. It was everything that the dwarf was. After one glance Bilbo had known that Thorin was everything he ever wanted. It was pure attraction, infatuation and lust, all this had been created with a single glance, a simple meeting of their eyes.

Bilbo was called to a summit meeting at Mount Olympus, sitting next to his mother Belladonna as he gazed around the room, bored. He observed the King of them all, Thrain, the God of Thunder, hammer in his hand as he called for order. The dwarf sat with a rigid spine, voice crackling through the room with a brilliant flash. The great hall silenced immediately, and all eyes were drawn to the King of Gods. The dwarf waved his hand with a flourish, and intoned gravely, "You may bring forth your complaints now, King of the Woodland Realm."

Bilbo loathed the regular meetings like this, the ones where all the greater Gods and Goddesses were drawn fro their realms and forced to argue and listen to each other's complaints. The meetings like this one were the worst though, the ones were Thranduil- the king of Dryads showed up just to whine at the Gods.

Bilbo sighed, wishing more than anything for a cup of wine to settle his nerves and distract his thoughts. A flash of gold sparked in front of him, a large and finely crafted cup landed just in front of his hand filled to the brim with a deep red wine. Bilbo chuckled and cast a glance at the cause; Frerin the God of pleasures and wines, son of Thrain. Frerin winked at him, taking a long drink from his own cup, turning his head to the side to speak to the dwarf who sat next to him.

Bilbo found his eyes were unmovable from the dwarf who sat at Frerin's left, and Thrain's right. He was bathed in shadows, they pooled around him, tainting the air around him a dark shade that clung to his every move. He was dressed in regal blues and obsidian blacks, skin glowing in a way that made his godly nature obvious. He wasn't any different or more grand than any of the others Gods Bilbo had met, but he found he was unable to cast his eyes away, even for a moment.

The dwarf turned and he looked at Bilbo, bright blue eyes glowing. Bilbo's breath caught in his throat, and his stomach fell to his feet. In that single glance, he had known. He had _known_. This was Thorin. The king and master of death. He felt a deep hunger growing in him, an insatiable hunger for Thorin Oakenshield, king Under the Mountain, King Under the World. Bilbo wanted, by the power vested within him, he wanted. A steely resolve settled in his stomach as the dwarf glanced away, casting his heady glare on someone else, filling Bilbo with a brief fire of jealousy. By the end of the meeting, Bilbo decided the dwarf would be his, no matter the means.

Bilbo had heard of Thorin's terrible habit of using the land outside Bilbo's realms as a quick gateway to his own. And Bilbo knew what was to happen, when the time came Bilbo waited in the grain field, merrily whistling away as he waited for the earth to crack open. The earth did split, precisely on time, shadows pooling out of the crevice.

Thorin's chariot rippled across the field, and Bilbo watched, his heart joyfully pounding when the dwarf slowed, his eyes widening as he looked down upon Bilbo. Bilbo wanted to leave, and he would ensure that it would happen, but Thorin was a prideful God, he would not take Bilbo if the hobbit begged. 

So the hobbit had blushed under Thorin's gaze and batted his eyelashes, biting his lower lip and letting the king think it was his own idea. He trembled helplessly, and stared up with wide eyes, waiting for it happen. When the King's mouth opened a little, Bilbo had almost grinned his success. Thorin had been helpless. He had hoisted Bilbo up then, intent on claiming him, clutching the hobbit to his chest as they entered the Underworld with a loud resonating crack, and Bilbo had smiled. It was he who was claiming Thorin, not the other way around. But he would let the king have this small victory.

He had eaten the pomegranate willingly, chewing slowly, letting the red juice dribble down his chin and stain his lips. He licked his stained fingers of the crimson juice, looking up at Thorin from underneath his golden eyelashes, marveling at the lust in those supreme blue eyes. Chills erupted on the surface of his skin and he had smiled, because his own desire was matched in Thorin's. He then stood from where he sat, and slowly sidled up the dwarf with the grace of a great cat, his gaze unwavering.

He purred into Thorin's ear the words he'd always wanted to say, and he adored the affect it had on the king. He smirked as Thorin swallowed and shuddered, turning lust-heavy eyes towards him, waiting for Bilbo's hum of approval.

Bilbo had laid in the center of the king's bed, completely naked and aroused, moaning and mewling as the king stood in front of the bed, awestruck and lost. Head tilting to the side as he contemplated the sight of Bilbo, eyes large in wonder and awe. He whimpered and whined, rolling his body around as Thorin stared.

"Thorin." He whispered, locking his gaze onto the king's. " _Come here_."

Thorin looked remarkably helpless, swallowing and blushing as the hobbit keened, pressing his fingers into his tight little hole, moaning Thorin's name all the while. He began to stroke himself, and then it had been too much for the dwarf. Thorin was suddenly above him, fully clothed with glittering eyes as he gazed down at Bilbo. His shadows touched Bilbo first, crawling over the surface of the hobbit's skin, wrapping him up in the darkness he had always craved. 

Bilbo had kissed him then, in sweet and long lingering movements, sliding the king's furs off his shoulders and cupping Thorin's swollen member beneath the layer of his breeches. The king was an absolute wreck, eyelids lowered and tinged purple, hair disarrayed, lips swollen and stained from Bilbo's pomegranate kisses, breathing labored as he slowly pressed himself into Bilbo with a gentle moan.

They had coupled multiple times, Bilbo bathing in affection and shadow, smiling as he drew Thorin to whimpers and sighs. He kissed Thorin, exploiting the flavors and tastes of his mouth, mapping it out, pressing it all into memory. He drew himself from the King of Death's bed, pressing the dark sheets to his naked body, casting a small smile at his new lover. He roamed Thorin's halls and realm, grinning as he felt those supremely blue eyes holding onto the sight of his small body, never moving away. Each morning he rose from the bed that became theirs, kissing Thorin tenderly, humming into his ear, running deft little fingers through Thorin's jet tresses. Each night he slipped his pale golden cloak off, exposing his soft and pale body to his King, moaning as the shadows came crawling over him, spreading his legs and waiting for his King.

He was Bilbo Baggins. Son of Belladonna. A hobbit of the world above. A God of sunshine, fruit and the harvest. But he was more than these things. He was the Tempter of Kings, The Minx, The Ruiner, but most of all he was The Burglar who stole the heart of the King of Death.

 

 

Bilbo was very much proud of the title.

 

 

 


	2. Saturn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is forced to raise a young Frodo on his own, due to circumstance he can't help. Raising a three year old on your own can make relationships very difficult, but nothing is set in stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I've kinda changed my mind, and now this fic is where all my little drabbles and ficlets will go from now on. I just wrote this like ten minutes ago, so yeah.
> 
> Also, it's called "Saturn" because that's the title of the song I was listening to while I wrote this. 
> 
> For the most part, expect more regular updates within the next 3 months, since I'm on summer break.

 

 

Bilbo simply wasn't able to have a relationship. It wasn't because he didn't want one, as he very much did want a romance. And it wasn't for a lack of trying either, if any of his previous relationships were anything to go off of. He simply wasn't able to.

He didn't have time for Glorifindel anymore, and goodness knew that if he didn't have time for his steady boyfriend of 4 years, he definitely did not have time for seeing anyone new.

His time was otherwise occupied for what would be a very long while, since 18 years didn't tend to pass in a wink. But that was the legalities of it,since he was officially  a guardian for nearly two decades, but he thought it would be longer than that. When you became a parent, you became a parent for life. Or at least that's how he felt.

Because he was a father now. And being a father meant dropping everything for your child. The minute that baby was in his arms, he knew he would give the world just for that small little dark haired boy to be safe and happy. Bilbo's own personal wants and needs were second to his son's now. Which meant he didn't have time for romance anymore, he needed to be potty training, not dry humping. Even if he wanted to have sexy-times, he couldn't, the minute he adopted Frodo, he made that very clear to Glorifindel, and they very quickly broke up. Things between them were already beginning to deteriorate, and Bilbo knew that Frodo was a perfect excuse to pull out of a relationship that wasn't working out for very much longer anyway. Besides from that, Bilbo had no regard for relationships when he was raising a child, and more than once he had to turn very nice and very handsome men down.

His own mother had put her entire life on hold for him when he'd been born, taking a break from her adventurous lifestyle, settling down in Hobbiton, and raising him to the best of her abilities. No matter how much she loved protesting deforestation in South America, or hiking in the Alps, or participating in military coups, she dropped it all; her exciting life full of foreign affairs and adventures, just for little old boring Bilbo. Bilbo felt like he owed it to the world to be the same sort of parent to Frodo.

He knew the circumstances weren't exactly the same, considering Frodo wasn't his son biologically speaking, and he also hadn't made the decision to have unprotected sex with someone…but the point is mute. Primula and Drogo had died in a terrible car accident, and Bilbo–despite not being catholic, was Frodo's godfather. It had only made sense for him to become the legal guardian, as Prim had even indicated in her will, should something happen to her and her husband. And when Bilbo had seen that poor little baby, crying for a mother who was torn away from him, he knew he couldn't just let some distant relative come in and claim the boy. At least Frodo had already known Bilbo, and wouldn't be terribly out of sorts.

Sometimes though, on then especially hard days, Bilbo closed his eyes and bitterly wished that Prim hadn't died, hadn't left him with this baby. Despite this, he loved Frodo dearly, and couldn't imagine a life without the three-year old, no matter how hard it would be. Besides he was a Baggins, and that meant he wouldn't shirk from his duties or his vows. He would always stand by Frodo to the best of his ability, even if it cost him his general wellbeing. He would sacrifice it all for the lad.

His piece of mind included.

Frodo wouldn't stop crying. He really wouldn't. No matter what Bilbo did, the fussy three-year old would only pause and stare at him for a moment, before bawling his eyes out again. It was becoming quite embarrassing too, since they were on an airplane, and people were beginning to give him dirty looks. The plane hadn't even been completely boarded yet, and already Frodo was throwing a fit.

Bilbo tried shushing him, bouncing him on his knee, but the bawling baby only squealed and sobbed, heaving heavy breaths with tears streaking down his red face. Bilbo pushed his dark curls back on his head, and started to hum him a lullaby, which really did nothing but earn another disgusted look from the lady across the aisle. Flustered now, Bilbo handed him his bottle, only to curse underneath his breath when Frodo pushed it away and onto the floor. Sighing, Bilbo handed him his favorite toy, the rag doll of an angry dwarf king with long dark hair, a short beard, an an eternal scowl. Personally Bilbo thought the toy very peculiar, but Frodo absolutely adored it, and refused to go anywhere without it. Usually the sight of the scowling dwarf toy made Frodo beam and grin, but he threw it on the aisle floor.

Muttering to himself, Bilbo tried to place the squirming toddler down in his car seat, but Frodo squealed again and latched himself onto Bilbo, refusing to let go and let Bilbo retrieve the toy. Sighing, Bilbo tried to grab the toy, but quickly found he couldn't reach very far when a 32 pound three year old squirmed and bawled in his lap.

Much to his surprise, and mild embarrassment, he found the toy being picked up by a concerned-looking air-hostess. (Was that what they were called? Or was it stewardess? Bilbo really didn't know, and really couldn't bring himself to care. He was just incredibly moved by the kindness of the woman, who'd actually dared to help him instead of giving him dirty looks.)  
Face reddening, he thanked the red-haired woman, who'd only given him a soft smile and a pitying pat on the shoulder. Meanwhile, Frodo still wasn't settling down, and threw his dwarf toy again. And this time, there was no way in hell that Bilbo could reach. Internally cursing the tantrums of children, he fussed, trying to figure out how to grab the toy without upsetting Frodo further. Trying to sit his adopted child back into his car seat, he heard a very loud and very masculine ahem.

"Ah. Sir, I believe your child is in my seat."  
And it was all Bilbo could do not to scream and burst into tears that would definitely put Frodo to shame. Turning around, with what would have been a very long and embarks on rant, he met the eyes of what must have been the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

Tall, dark and handsome. He wore a simple black button down, as well as some tight black pants that would no doubt make his ass look _fantastic_. He had a large fur rimmed coat attached to his carry-on, and Bilbo wondered how on earth the man got away with that. His hair was dark, almost jet, but white at the temples, pulled back into a low ponytail that was just begging to be released and combed through with fingers. (Preferably Bilbo's) He had a thick and short beard, recently clipped, but just on the right side of untamed, reminding Bilbo of a lumberjack. His eyes, when Bilbo finally met them, were the most spectacular shade of sapphire blue that he'd ever seen, so startling and eerily familiar that he lost his breath for a moment.

The man blinked down at him, a brief annoyed look crossing his face. "Sir? Your child. He's in my seat."

Bilbo sprung back into action, face flaming the entire time. Holding his breath, and attaching a still wailing Frodo to his hip, he quickly moved Frodo's car seat so that he was no longer by the window, instead placing him one over, just between him and the gorgeous stranger. Still flushed and breathless, he stepped back to let the gorgeous man sit, flush deepening when he saw how correct he had been about those pants.

Placing Frodo down in his seat, Bilbo leaned over quickly and grabbed the dwarf toy, handing back to Frodo. The toddler squeezed it in his hand and continued wailing, leaving Bilbo to wonder why he'd been able to cry for such an extended amount of time. Shouldn't the little tyke tired out by now?

Reaching into his carry on, Bilbo whipped out another toy, a really annoying one Bilbo only used in dire situations. Once Frodo pressed the button on the light up whatever-it-was, a extremely annoying song would start, and Frodo would press it again. And again. And again. And again, for the next hour or so. Bilbo was both pleased and dismayed when Frodo pushed the toy away.

Chancing a glance at their seat neighbor only made Bilbo's embarrassment worsen. The man looked amused at what was happening next to him. Quickly, so quickly Bilbo wasn't even quite sure it happened, the man smiled at Frodo, face lighting up, teeth gleaming, and eyes crinkling, grinning down at the baby with a true joy. Immediately, Frodo stopped crying, instead he stared up in wonder, and giggled of all things.

"Are you a king?" The three-year old asked, completely enchanted by the man.

With a sober look on his face, the man shook his head. "Not anymore, azyungal."

"What happened?" Frodo asked, unfazed when Bilbo wiped some of his tears from his face and strapped him into his car seat.

Then the man smiled again, softer this time, and began a tale that had both father and son awed.

Years later, when Bilbo woke in the middle of the night, feeling cold from the lack of absence of Thorin's body heat, he would always find Frodo curled up onto Thorin's chest, his husband singing quietly of mountains far away in a land mostly forgotten. It was a marvel to him, that both he and his son had fallen in love with Thorin so quickly and completely.

But that's how true love worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there's going to be more drabbles for this verse! So expect some more of this story. Lots of fluff too, probably. Thanks for reading! Comments, kudos and questions are always welcome!


	3. Saturn- Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's POV for Saturn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this really hurriedly, because I was super hyper and really inspired and the thought of Bilbo and Thorin being reincarnated over and over again made me really happy, so this little ficlet happened. Let me know what you think.

Thorin POV switch

How did you explain to someone that you'd just met that you were meant to be? That you'd spent so many lifetimes together, that in each one where you met, you both fell in love, that sometimes some lives were more tragic than others, but you always found each other, always made it work? 

You didn't.   
Perhaps that was singular to Thorin, though. He'd already gone through this before, he remembered what usually happened when he mentioned it to Bilbo. Sometimes Bilbo would laugh, sometimes he would ignore what Thorin had said, sometimes he remembered, sometimes he didn't. His reactions were hardly pretty, that much was clear to Thorin.

In one life together, the one in which they'd both been children, Thorin had told him. He'd sat him down and told him everything. And Bilbo had wept both tears of joy and sadness, clinging to Thorin, eyes lightning up as he remembered. And as wrong as it was, Thorin didn't want to put Bilbo through that again, he couldn't stand for the sight or sound of his true love weeping. In this life, he wouldn't tell Bilbo. And once he found him, Thorin wouldn't ever leave his side. Not if he could help it.

Thorin had spent the last twenty years of his life traveling. For work, of course. He couldn't stand sitting in one place, not when Bilbo could be out there, anywhere, never knowing. His boss had nothing against it, Thorin was good at what he did, and taking contracts half a ways around the world wasn't that big of deal. He got to wander, and wandering led to Bilbo faster, that much he'd learned. 

This trip wasn't for business, though. It was just him, going back home to Ered Luin to see his family. He always spent the holidays with them, even if they always prattled on and on about how he needed some romance in his life, how it was strange that he'd never been tied down, only had short and temporary relationships. (which were mostly had just to appease them) He had no desire to sit down and stick it out with random men and women, not when he knew he had a greater chance, a greater love. Bilbo was an eternity. These people, these nameless and faceless people were years, months, decades (if they were lucky) and why would he want that? Why would he settle down with any of them when he would have a better love, a purer and true and eternal love with Bilbo? Thorin couldn't even remember a beginning to their meetings, to their love, for him, it just was. 

 

At first, Thorin was annoyed that the airline had been so incompetent that they'd accidentally put him in business class instead of first. (In this life he had been blessed with money, and lots of it) but then he'd heard a very familiar wailing, and his heart sang. 

Frodo. 

He'd found Frodo, and where Frodo was, Bilbo wasn't far behind. Thorin continued on down the aisle, pausing when he saw a familiar halo of tawny curls, and an easily recognizable displeased muttering. Smiling he stopped behind Bilbo, noticing the frazzled man had even gotten his seats confused. 

Clearing his throat, Thorin spoke. 

"Ah. Sir, I believe your child is in my seat."   
Bilbo froze, body stiffening in that manner it always did when Thorin spoke to him the first time. Curbing his amusement, Thorin tried very hard not to smirk when Bilbo's eyes widened. 

His eyes were more brown than blue in this life, but other than that, he hadn't changed. He was still as beautiful as ever. 

Bilbo seems surprised that Frodo relaxes in his presence so easily, obviously unawares of his own mild temperament. Bilbo didn't verily often relax around others, but in this life he seemed to recognize Thorin, just enough to be comfortable.

When they're forced to emergency land in Rohan due to bad weather, Bilbo begins to panic, muttering to himself about missing Christmas dinner and tapping his feet. His frantic behavior only worsens when he tries to call his mother, only to find that he has no signal.

Wordlessly, Thorin hands him his phone, smiling when Bilbo gives him a very wide-eyed grateful look. Biting his lip, Bilbo stares down at the screen, face lightly illuminated from the bright phone. Narrowing his eyes he looks down at Thorin's background photo, looking back up at Thorin with a jealous predatory look in his eyes. "Your wife?" He asks numbly, eyes flickering back down to the photo of his sister and grinning nephews. 

Thorin very nearly laughs. "My sister." He explains, watching as Bilbo's face brightens immediately. He's relieved, Thorin realizes, amused at the possessiveness Bilbo is already showing.

"Nice." Bilbo mutters quietly to himself, smiling now, quickly dialing out a number.  
He stands off to the side, head tilted, smiling faintly as he murmurs quietly into Thorin's phone. More than once his eyes wander back over to Thorin, and he very quickly snaps his head away, flushing from root to tip. 

Yawning, Frodo rubs his eyes and blinks up at Thorin. Large blue eyes bleary and heavy with sleep. A few of his dark curls escape from the onesie, and Thorin is so endeared that he can't help but accept when Frodo very politely asks if he can rest his head on Thorin. 

"Of course, ghivasha." Thorin says, placing his coat down as a cushion, motioning for Frodo to go ahead. Sleepily, Frodo nods, and rests his head on Thorin's knee, curling in on himself and quickly dozing off. 

When Bilbo returns, he looks at Thorin and Frodo with awe, brow furrowing, but a smile graces his lips. He sits down and pulls Frodo up to his chest, smiling at the mumbled protest, letting his son burrow further against him. Without really looking, he hands Thorin's phone back, a gasp escaping his lips when their fingers graze. There's a befuddled look in his eyes, and they climb back up to Thorin, almost remembering. For the remainder of the evening, they flicker back to him, golden lashes lowered as he looked up through them. 

They end up traveling together once they discover there will be no flights for the next couple of days, and that they're headed in the same direction. Frodo is elated of course, and won't leave Thorin's side if he can help it. Bilbo seems reluctant to wander far from Thorin either, even going as far as holding Thorin's hand when they run to catch their train. 

Bilbo is breathless, laughing softly as he tilts his head back and looks out of the window, pushing his tawny curls out of his eyes, grinning up at Thorin. Frodo is adamant about sitting next to Thorin, asking him for more of the tale about Erebor, clutching his dwarf rag-doll to his chest. It's both amusing and disconcerting that Frodo has a doll that resembles one of lives so closely. When Frodo dozes off again, Thorin can't help but ask where the boy had gotten the doll to begin with. Bilbo's eyebrows furrow, and he scratches his nose. 

"Hm, Gandalf I think. An old friend of my mother's. He turned up one day, handed it to Frodo and the boy refused to let it go." 

Thorin barks a laugh, and covers his face. Of course. He really shouldn't have been so surprised. The old coot somehow always played a part in their lives. When he was a dwarf king, he had been avoiding Bilbo, convinced that he would only lead him to ruin and despair. Gandalf had tricked him, and brought Bilbo along on their quest to Erebor, much to Thorin's displeasure. He's lived as Thorin Oakenshield more than once, and of course Gandalf had anticipated that Frodo would recognize his dwarven form. He didn't know whether to thank or curse the wizard, but he wasn't at all surprised by that. Gandalf had always been meddling, and Thorin doubted it would ever stop. 

When they part ways, Thorin says goodbye without really meaning it. As soon as he's done with his family, the whole crazy lot of them, he will come back for Bilbo. He doesn't care if they end up as friends or lovers, he just can't stand the thought of waiting another lifetime. Frodo waves goodbye jubilantly, somehow knowing that Thorin has no plans to leave them for good. He has always, and will always come back to them. 

To his surprise though, Bilbo stops from boarding the train, and there are tears in his eyes. Hurriedly, as if there's no time life, as if they don't have eternity, as if they hadn't always had eternity, Bilbo reaches up and kisses him. 

As always, it steals his breath. 

Frodo is in Bilbo's arms, their luggage is thrown on he ground, Thorin is bending his neck at an uncomfortable angle, and people are giving them strange looks, but Thorin can't bring himself to care. And when they pull apart, Bilbo's lips swollen ruby-red and his cheeks pleasantly flushed, Frodo announces that it took them long enough, and could they please go already. Thorin chuckles at that, blinking away tears.   
He grabs hold of Bilbo's hand, and they board another train, heading further west into Ered Luin. 

When Bilbo's mother calls, curious as to why her son isn't home yet, Bilbo's eyes flush up with tears, and he stares at the sky, grinning to himself. "Mom," he begins, voice cracking with joy. "I'm going on an adventure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, there might a few errors since I haven't gone through and edited it yet, but I'll get around to it at some point. Thanks for reading, guys!


	4. Dwalin the Magical Cockblocker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is very good at cockblocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this in January, and it's based off a fantastic drawing by the fantastic tumblr user [M-sock](http://m-sock.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Here](http://m-sock.tumblr.com/post/108639748172/i-just-think-about-the-number-of-times-dwalin)  
> is the comic if you want to check it out.  
> 

 

"So," Bilbo began hesitantly, placing down his book and looking over at Thorin. "Your brother came down to the cafe today."

Thorin sits at the other end of the couch, reading, deeply engrossed in the manuscript he was reading. Distracted, he glances up at Bilbo fleetingly with a mumbled "oh, yeah?"

Bilbo hums, clearing his throat, softly saying "yeah."

Thorin turns a page, annotating the piece, half mumbling to himself. There's a moment of silence. This doesn't bother Thorin, silence never has, but he can sense Bilbo's unease, and he realizes their conversation wasn't really finished.

"Well, what did he want?"

It takes Bilbo a second to respond. "Um, well originally he was looking for you. Said it was something important."

"I doubt it." Thorin snorts, and tries to go back to focusing on the piece, but his hearts not in it anymore. Bilbo had drug him out of workflow.

"Why?" Bilbo asks, sounding genuinely curious. Obviously, he doesn't know any better when it comes to Frerin, and the question, the entire scenario amuses him.

Thorin chuckles. "Because Frerin is an idiot who likes to distract me during work."  
Just like you, apparently. He thinks to himself, smiling and re-reading a sentence he grazed over.

"Yeah, I get that now. After he realized you weren't up here, he started pestering me." Bilbo pauses. "Asking about how far we'd gone."

That got Thorin's attention. He looks up fully, mildly amused, but mostly annoyed at Frerin's nosiness. "Oh? And what did you tell him?" Thorin works at keeping the edge out of his tone, he didn't want Bilbo to think he was annoyed with him.

Bilbo's blushing at this , but he visibly forces himself to continue, avoiding Thorin's gaze.

"Well, he specifically said “have you gotten into anything interesting with Thorin?”" Bilbo said, leering and imitating the deep timbers of Frerin's voice. He cleared his throat, and his large hazel eyes flickered back to Thorin. "And well, I was honest."

Thorin looks up at him, studying Bilbo for a moment, head tilted in consideration.  
He wants to ask what the "honesty" even was, but he's not sure how to phrase it, so he just ends up staring at Bilbo oddly.

Which worsens Bilbo's blush. "To be specific I told him, that while we hadn't done a lot of particularly interesting things, didn't mean I wasn't willing to." Bilbo is biting his lips as he says this, and he glances up at Thorin, nervous.

Thorin's eyebrows raise, and he catches the mild innuendo. He was not expecting that. A slow smile spreading across his lips, he places the manuscript on the table and leans forward. Putting his arm around Bilbo, he smirks and cooly asks, "and what do you consider interesting?"

His voice is deeper at this part, huskier, latched with an inkling of desire. Bilbo's blush returns with a fiery vengeance, and the red brings a nice tone to his cheeks. Adorable. Thorin grins and chuckles.

"That's fine. I've got enough ideas of my own." He growls mischievously, grabbing Bilbo viciously by the waist, making him giggle.

Still smirking, Thorin settles Bilbo into his lap, and slowly presses his lips onto Bilbo's. The kiss is just as magical as all the ones prior, and Bilbo can't help but just melt into Thorin.

Bilbo's kisses are perfect. They held a certain sense of familiarity and intimacy, like that of old lovers who had kissed countless times before, but they also felt new and sparkly, like a magical first kiss that sent your head spinning and made your knees weaken. Thorin kisses Bilbo softly, as smoothly as possible, tasting the inside of his mouth, strangely similar to raspberry scones. Bilbo's hands come to rest on his shoulders, and Thorin buries his own in Bilbo's waist. Bilbo's hands move upwards into his hair, and Thorin sighs into the kiss, gasping as Bilbo nibbled on his lower lip.

Bilbo leaned further into the kiss, pressing himself fully against Thorin, who replied with a low moan and by burying his face in the curve of Bilbo's arched throat. Bilbo gasped, and Thorin chuckled, brushing his lips across Bilbo's exposed collarbone, licking the skin there.

"What?" He whispered, nibbling on Bilbo's earlobe.

Bilbo was panting for breath, clutching onto Thorin's back rather desperately. Thorin was begging to worry a bit. Frowning, he slowly leaned away, retracting his lips, a sound of surprise escaping him when Bilbo pulled him back in.

"No," he moaned. "Stay. Don't stop."

Thorin is frozen, and he examines Bilbo. "What's the matter?"

"Your beard," Bilbo panted, licking Thorin's neck, pulling the collar of his shirt to kiss his hot shoulder.

"What about it?"

"It drives me insane." Bilbo sighed, cradling Thorin's bearded cheeks.

Thorin smiled and he kissed Bilbo with vigor, pulling Bilbo into his lap, unable to contain his smile as the smaller man moaned into his mouth. He slid his hands up Bilbo's shirt, enjoying the feeling of the soft warm skin there, luxuriating in this feeling, in this moment. He paused, smiling at Bilbo's annoyed sound of displeasure. He rested his forehead against Bilbo's, his dark blue eyes meeting a pair of bright hazel ones. "You," he whispered, against Bilbo lips, closing his eyes. "Drive me insane."

Bilbo kissed him roughly, and Thorin eagerly soaked him up. He tightened his arms around Bilbo's waist, and Bilbo's leg straddled across his hip, drawing them closer.

His heart was pounding, his mind was dazed, and he was utterly hopeless. Completely lost in the joy and glory that was Bilbo's mouth. Bilbo's soft sweet lips that Thorin gladly lapped up like nectar. Bilbo's hot flesh that he was offering only to Thorin. Bilbo's tongue, tasting and lapping over him. Bilbo's hands, claiming him and making their wishes known. Bilbo was being a bit more daring, slowly unbuttoning Thorin's shirt, tongue dancing across his skin, making him inhale in a sharp breath.

Bilbo pushed Thorin onto his back, looking flushed, aroused and determined. If the tightness in his own jeans was anything to go off of, he was equally as hard. Bilbo kissed Thorin's neck, biting the skin there, and Thorin moaned. Thorin's hands slid down to Bilbo's delicious rump, pulling him flush against Thorin's hard clothed cock. He rocked his hips up against Bilbo's, moaning as Bilbo nipped his ear. Bilbo pressed a hand between them, deft little fingers dangling past the fly of Thorin's jeans, just about to explore when-

Thorin's phone rings, rather loudly, shaking and rattling on the table, annoying him immediately. Panting, he looks up at Bilbo, who sighs and nods. "It could be important." He says, resting his head on Thorin's chest.

Thorin grabs it, not bothering to suppress his annoyance. "What do you want Dwalin?" He growls angrily, a growl that usually sent anyone running, but sadly his best friend was unfazed, used to Thorin's bark.

"Thorin! Have you gotten laid yet?!?" Dwalin practically screamed into the phone.

Thorin doesn't respond, and he just covers his face with his hands, and Bilbo chuckles lightly, burying his face in the crook of Thorin's shoulder.

"Oh." Dwalin says.

"Yeah." Thorin says back, hanging up, rolling his eyes and looking up at Bilbo.

"That was mean." He grins, hands still splayed on Thorin's partially exposed chest.

Thorin just smirks and pulls Bilbo in for another kiss, chuckling at Bilbo's giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.  
> Comments, questions, kudos, and suggestions are always welcome.


	5. The Thrush and The Raven-Sneak Peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peek of new fic- Where Bilbo Baggins is something of a peculiarity, and Gandalf find his special skills may be well suited for a new adventure. But where Gandalf is involved, there is meddling that Bilbo doesn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is a brief rough draft of the first chapters of my new fic, which will be up and running by mid June to July.

The Thrush and The Raven 

ROUGH EDIT 1

 

Bilbo Baggins was chosen to be the fourteenth member of the company on the road to Erebor for many reasons. The first being that Thorin Oakenshield had a strong distrust of anyone who was not his kin, which Gandalf sought to break him of. The second was that the company needed a burglar, and Bilbo Baggins, since he was a hobbit, was very spry on his feet. The third reason was that before Bilbo's mother Belladonna had passed, Gandalf had promised her to take her son an adventure someday, and Gandalf wanted to make good on that promise. The last reason was that Bilbo Baggins was very peculiar, and very capable in manners that most peoples of middle earth weren't.

For Bilbo could change the form of his body when it pleased him.

Sometimes he took the form of a rabbit, and other times he was a wolf, and very often a hobbit, yet his favorite form of all was when he was a songbird. Specifically, a thrush.  
There was something nice about being a bird, and when Bilbo began to take on that form more often, he found several traits of his bird self carrying over. Which he didn't mind one bit, and quite liked himself that way.

The day Gandalf paused by his garden, Bilbo had looked up with a strong exasperation. The Wandering Wizard only led to two things; trouble and meddling. Gandalf liked to meddle, and it was what the wizard did best. He meddled in anything that he could. He meddled in the state of Middle Earth, he meddled with people's feelings,he meddled with people's hearts, and with that came trouble. Gandalf was trouble. So when the wizard looked down at him expectantly, Bilbo scowled up at him.

"What is it now, Gandalf?" He asked crossly, puffing on his pipe in anger.

Gandalf gave a hearty chuckle. "To think I would be greeted by Belladonna Took's son as if I were a troublemaker. Interesting times indeed."

Bilbo was not moved. "Ha! Troublemaker indeed! I have not forgotten the incident in which I had been nearly eaten, and with no thanks to you!"

Gandalf's lips turned downwards, and the wizard slumped. "I have apologized for that, Bilbo Baggins. And the quest was done only with the best intentions." He sniffed, waiting a moment to add; "besides, if it makes you feel better you should know that thanks to your efforts that group of bandits has been dully punished."

Bilbo huffed, feeling his resolve crumble. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "A–alright. I'll hear you out."

Gandalf beamed, the offended look from his face vanishing immediately. Bilbo scowled and put his pipe back in his mouth, puffing away to soothe his nerves. Cursing himself to caving so easily, he opened his door and motioned for the wizard to follow. The wizard sat in the man-sized chair in Bilbo's parlor, patiently waiting for the hobbit to emerge from the kitchen with the usual treats he brought. He placed the assortments down, and sat back in his armchair, looking up at Gandalf and waiting patiently.

"Where am I going and what am I fetching?" He demanded. "I am not going on another 'adventure' without knowledge of what the risks are. So tell me, and tell me all of it, Gandalf."

Gandalf leaned back in his chair and began his tale, using his usual way with words to sway Bilbo, as the hobbit had always loved stories, even if he scowled and said he didn't wish to hear them.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Bilbo had spent an entire day working away in the kitchen, preparing for a feast that would satisfy fourteen hobbits, let alone thirteen dwarfs and a wizard. He makes pies, and lots of them. Blackberry pies, cherry pies, Apple pies, shepherd's pies, beef pies, and chicken pot pies. He bakes sweet-bread and covers it in honey, or he slathers it in butter, and oftentimes eats them before he sets them out for dinner. He peels lots of potatoes, and prepares them in all sorts of ways. He fries them, he bakes them, he mashes then. He removes the innards of tomatoes and turns them into a sauce for dipping, the remnants are filled with beef and goat cheese and baked. He baked sweet potatoes with garlic and cherry tomatoes, topping them with salt and spices. He made several large loafs of bread and stuffed them with cheese and surprise bits of tomato to expand in flavor. He was adamant on having his culinary skills remembered.

He emptied out his first pantry, and made plans to empty out the second the next morning for breakfast, and for travel. Bilbo would be damned if he was dragged on a long adventure with dwarfs without a single treat or two.

He was finishing up his fish frying, and adding the finishing touches to his delicious spread when he heard his doorbell ring. Feeling cheerful, he opened the door and bowed his head to the two dwarfs on the stoop completing for service. "Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo, at your service."

The two stopped their bickering and turned to him with mischievous grins. "Fíli," the first one said, the shorter of the two, with gleaming golden hair and a very fanciful braided mustached. "And Kíli," The second added, a stark contrast to his brother in appearance. Whereas the first was golden, the second had dark chocolate hair and light stubble, undoubtedly the younger then.

"At your service." They chorused together bowing to him and grinning.

Then, the second dwarf– Kíli, pushed past Bilbo and looked around the house. "Where is everyone? Was it canceled?"

Fíli gave Bilbo a suspicious look, and the hobbit rolled his eyes. "No! Nothing's been canceled, just have a pint and wait for your kin. You two are the first." They looked relieved at that, and all but dashed into his dining room, about to serve themselves when Bilbo tutted loudly and took their plates away.

"I said a pint, not a plate, mind you. Wait for your companions. It is rude to eat without everyone present."

Fíli looked confused by the custom, and Kíli visibly sulked, which was quickly relieved when Bilbo passed them both a cookie and a cup of honey-mead each.

When the rest of the dwarfs came, they did not seem too pleased about being made to wait, especially the rotund one. Bombur stared dreamily at the steaming platters in front of him, and impatiently waited until the leader of their company at last arrived. The moment a heavy knock came upon the door, they all dug in, passing around plates and cutlery in a haste. Bilbo sighed and went to answer the door, Gandalf just behind him. He opened the door, and was greeted with the sight of a tall, magnificent and brooding dwarf.

Bilbo found his breath quite stuck in his throat. Clearing it with a high pitched squeak, he bowed his head to the dwarf. "Ah, Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo… at your service."

The dwarf was…  
Sinfully gorgeous. His hair was dark, almost jet in the dim lighting, falling down over his shoulder in long cascading waves. He was tall, and rather stately in manner, carrying himself with an air that stated his importance. He was tall, and undoubtedly imposing. His beard was cropped short, despite his status as King of the longbeards, if Bilbo's studies were correct. He was handsome, that went without dispute, but what caught Bilbo's attention wasn't his fine jaw or regal nose or magnificent brow, or even the way that he carried himself with strength. It was his eyes, crystalline and a pure untouched blue. Bilbo could scarce describe the color, if he were ever to be asked.

Bilbo realized with a jolt that he had been staring for quite some time, and he squeaked in surprise. "Ah… if my assumptions are correct, you are King-In-Exile, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain."

The dwarf looked down at him haughtily but did not comment, looking unimpressed that Bilbo knew his name and title. Clearing his throat, Bilbo looked down and away. "Just down the hall there is food and drink, should you like any. And, to your right is where you can place your belongings. I have only six  
guest rooms, one of which has been reserved for Gandalf, and I assume you can divide the rest amongst your companions."

Thorin did not offer so much as a thank you, and bowed his head, but only so he could step inside the smial. Removing his heavy cloak and furs, he cast a glare at Gandalf.

"I thought you said this place would be easy to find," he accused. "I would not have found it all if not for that mark upon the door."

"And a fine door it was too, painted just a week ago and ruined again, by another adventure Gandalf is dragging me off to." Bilbo muttered bitterly to himself, mood darkening at the lack of thanks he had received.

Thorin turned to him, face straight. "Is there a problem? Do you not wish to adventure with us, hobbit? You do not have to come."

Bilbo blanched, eyes narrowing, he wasn't sure, but it sounded as if Thorin was challenging him. This did nothing to help his already darkening mood, and Bilbo clenched his hands into fists. Smiling sweetly, he blinked up at the dwarf.  
"No, I should think not, Master Dwarf. I am as good as my word." Bilbo said.

The dwarf exhaled angrily and took a step closer to the hobbit. "There is no shame in backing out while you can. My companions will not judge you for accepting what you cannot do."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, poised to make a rebuttal, drawing himself up taller and taking a step towards the dwarf angrily.

Then Kíli came bounding into the room, holding up a chicken leg and grinning. Delighted, he called out. "Thorin!" And greeted the king-in-exile, embracing him tightly. Then the two dark hair dwarfs turned into the dining room, Gandalf following after, leaving Bilbo to stand back and wonder what had just happened.

Thorin's manner towards him did not improve in the slightest. Not when Bilbo got up an hour early to make them breakfast, not when Bilbo complimented his manners, not even when Bilbo got them out of unnecessary taxing by some rude hobbit cousin of his. The dwarf was always snapping at him, reprimanding him, scolding and belittling him with thinly veiled insults whenever he could. It drove Bilbo mad to no end. More than anything he wanted to slap the dwarf in the face, and demand an apology, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't cave. He would keep his temper despite that Thorin seemed to enjoy riling him up.

"I'm telling you, Thorin, if we camp here not only will we have a fitful sleep, we will wake up exhausted and feeling strange." Bilbo insisted, walking quickly next to Thorin as he yelled orders the the dwarfs.

Thorin ignored him, Bilbo walked away, muttering curses underneath his breath as he gathered firewood with Bofur.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" Bofur asked, concernedly looking at him. "You look uncomfortable."

Bilbo froze, as realization dawned on him. The only reason that he was more snappish than usual was that he hadn't shifted in weeks, at least not since Gandalf had paid him a visit. Slowly, Bilbo shook his head. "Not really, although I think I'll be better soon. But thank you for asking Bofur, I think you're the only one here who cares for my wellbeing besides myself."

Bofur gasped. " That's not true! We all care about you. You've been nothing but a pal to us."

Bilbo snorted.

"No, really I mean it."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and cast a glance towards Thorin.

"Even him, Bilbo." Bofur said, patting him on the back. "You matter a good deal."

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but returned the pat, giving Bofur a smile.

"Now, if you don't mind me asking, why do you think we shouldn't sleep here for the night?"

Bilbo chewed on his lower lip. "Ah, well. It's a bit of hobbit superstition. We're close to the Old Forest, and it's common knowledge that you don't get too close. Strange things occur in these lands…"Clearing his throat, he added; "These trees, this forest is remarkably ancient. And if magic lingers anywhere, it is certainly within this place."

Bofur nodded knowledgeably, and set the firewood in the center of the camp, stepping back as Gloin set it ablaze. "Oh we have tales like that too. Deep down in the mountains, things sleep. Things as old as the world itself. We know to not venture too deep into mountains, for fear of those sleeping things. Which are best to be left that way." Scratching his chin, Bofur cast a sidelong glance at Bilbo. "I'm surprised Thorin didn't listen to you. He would know best of the those ancient things."

Nearby, Dwalin raised an eyebrow. "Ancient things? Why such dark talk before bed?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Bilbo here was just explaining to me that these forests have their own type of ancient things, and I explained to him the ones in the mountain."

"Ooooo." Fíli and Kíli chorused in ghostly voices, waving their fingers at Bilbo.

"Ancient things are no joke." Thorin said, glaring across the fire at Bilbo.

"You say that as if you've seen one." Bilbo said, hoping to annoy Thorin even further. Spook him out a bit, ruin his sleep so he would know Bilbo was right.

"You know nothing of the world." Thorin spat, face darkening as he stood and turned away. Bilbo felt the color slip from his face, and he looked down, wishing that he hadn't let Gandalf talk him into this. That he had stayed in Bag-End, running around in his garden as a rabbit or perhaps fluttering from tree-to-tree as a bird.

"Don't pay any mind to him, Bilbo." Balin said, sitting over on Bilbo's left. "He saw things he shouldn't have, dark things at far too young an age."

"Contrary to what you may think, my dear Bilbo, you and Thorin are far more alike than you should think." Gandalf said.

Bilbo huffed. "I doubt I've anything in common with that pompous, brooding, grumpy and rude asshole."

The entire company looked at him in shock, and Bilbo huffed angrily, standing up from his spot by the fire and settling down in his cot, completely unaware of the Raven that sat in the tree, staring down at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> Comments, questions, theories you might have! I'd love to hear from you. If you want to see more from this verse and AU, be sure to tell me! A kudos would be very much appreciated.


	6. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins lives in a very old house split into half due to the ridiculous size. And no matter what his friends say, he absolutely does not have a crush on his hot as hell neighbor, Thorin Oakenshield. (He totally does)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on May 19th, according to my notes, so it's kinda old. I'm unsure if there'll be a part two, but I forgot about this and found it and decided to post.

_Of_ _course_ Bilbo noticed his neighbor. The man was impossible to miss; what with being tall, dark and handsome. It was more than that though, he was imposing in a manner that Bilbo hadn't seen before. The type of imposing that commanded attention and respect, just for being who he was. Regal. Kingly, almost. There was a bit of shallowness to it though, as Bilbo had to admit he loved Thorin's body. He'd always been the sort of guy to appreciate the beauty of the nude human form, which wasn't always as sexual as people made it out to be—but in this case, Bilbo couldn't really say his ogling was just appreciation for rippling muscles and tanned skin. Yet, Thorin also fascinated him. He was an interesting sort of man, the type of interesting that made Bilbo want to know. He was curious, and Thorin only enflamed it.

That didn't mean Bilbo had a crush on him, no matter what his best friend, Bofur, said.

Bofur was practically a pervert, anyway. He was destined to see romance ,or rather, lust, where it wasn't, and shamelessly flirt with almost anyone attractive that he got his hands on. He was the type of man to have exciting sex with strange people in strange places, that Bilbo really didn't want to hear about. Really, though, the chicken pen at the petting zoo? How did he pull that one off? To be blunt, Bofur had little to no boundaries. Which he was welcome to, it was his life after all, Bilbo certainly had no room to judge, or to infuse his own lifestyle upon others. It was a shame that his closest friends couldn't return the favor.

Prim was happily married for nearly a decade now, with a sweet husband and well behaved adorable son, they were the picturesque view for suburban bliss and ideals. She was always, or almost always, pestering Bilbo about settling down, about being happy. Why couldn't she just understand that he was happy this way? Writing and illustrating books in peace, taking nice long strolls around the park, by himself, sleeping in his nice big bed without having to worry about kicking someone in his sleep, or growing too hot from another's body heat. He was perfectly happy, and he didn't need a significant other. There was no gap in his life for another person to fill. His life was full enough as it was, and besides, he enjoyed his alone time, as was his introverted nature.

Bilbo wasn't getting any support from the Bofur front either, though. He may not have wanted the picturesque story-book suburban life Prim did, but that didn't mean he was satisfied with the state or Bilbo's bachelorhood either. He was always coercing Bilbo to go out and clubbing with him, to go to some strip club, or seedy bar and just have a nice old fuck with some stranger. He didn't understand that yes, while one-night stands were nice, Bilbo had no desire to sleep with random strangers for temporary gratification. Especially when he could get the job done himself. Besides, a temporary partner wouldn't know how to please him, how to touch him in all the right ways. No one knew Bilbo's body better than Bilbo, after all.

Just because he didn't want to go on a date with Prim's really nice and sweet friend, that most likely was a lovely man, or fuck some stranger in a car park, didn't mean that he had a crush on his neighbor. Because, he positively did not have a crush on Thorin Oakenshield, who hardly even knew he existed.

Just because he sometimes liked to look out the window and enjoy what was a very lovely view of Thorin's shirtless body while he mowed the lawn, didn't mean he had a crush. Just because he sometimes hovered near the mailbox when Thorin was getting off of work didn't mean he had a crush. Just because their separated houses was once a large single house, and Bilbo's bathroom was only separated from Thorin's by a very thin wall, and he sometimes heard Thorin sing, and knew he had a lovely voice and enjoyed listening to it, did not mean he had a crush.

Because he didn't. He positively did not have a crush. Really.

Bilbo was sitting in his favorite armchair, legs crossed, in an oversized jumper, glasses perched on his nose, watching an old 90's cartoon and eating a large bowl of cereal. Just the way he liked to spend his Friday evenings. Prim and Bofur usually came by an hour or so after this, for an adult sleepover, where they ate ice cream, drank wine, mocked celebrities and watched shitty telly. Except, Prim was having a date night, and Bofur had gone out of the town, (country, maybe?) for some ridiculous party. So on this particular Friday night, it was just him and Prim's son; Frodo. Whom he was supposed to be babysitting, but really only cast regular glances at, and commented on the obscure cartoon when he felt Frodo would appreciate it. The boy was completely engrossed, grinning at the bright screen.

If someone asked Bilbo, he would have said Courage the Cowardly Dog was a bit…disturbing. But it was Frodo's choice, and the lad seemed to be enjoying the show, so who was Bilbo to judge? Every person, no matter who they were, was entitled to their own tastes.

Cursing the dog internally for not being able to speak, he startled when he heard a quick and frantic knock at the front door. Frodo didn't move an centimeter, and stared at the screen without a flinch. For a moment Bilbo wondered if he had imagined it, then the knock came again, and he stood from his spot, dusting off his lap. Padding over to the front door, he opened it, smiling when he saw it was Dís, his neighbor and Thorin's sister. She lived with Thorin, or rather, he lived with her and her family, considering it was her, her husband, and her two sons, plus Thorin. Was that too crowded? Did Thorin want to move out soon? Why did he live with his sister and her family anyway? Not to say that that was a bad thing, he just didn't understand it. But maybe that was because he didn't want to understand it. Shaking off his strange thoughts, Bilbo flashed the tall dark haired woman a smile.

"Oh! Hello, Dís. How may I be of assistance?"

Looking more than a bit hurried and frazzled, Dís interrupted him. "Can I ask you a huge favor?"

Bilbo gulped, and cast a glance at Frodo, who was still staring at the screen with a glossed-over look in his eyes. "Well, it depends. I'm kinda babysitting my cousin's kid, so…"

"That's perfect!" She shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. Looking a bit embarrassed, she quickly quieted down. "You see, ah, Víli has had a bit of an accident involving his knife-throwing technique, and he needs stitches and I've got to run him up to the ER. Thorin is still at work and won't answer his cell or office phone, and I really don't have anyone else. So could you please, please, babysit Fíli and Kíli for an hour or so?" She begged, talking hurriedly.

Bilbo blinked. "Oh. Yes. Of course, no problem. Should I bring them over here…?"

"No! Just run on over next door, they've got to go to bed soon. And you can take your cousin's kid too! I really don't mind. Just— please!"

"Yeah. Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I'll be right over."

Dís pulled him in for a tight hug, smelling like lavender soap, kissing both his cheeks. "You are a saint. A saint, Bilbo Baggins!"

Smiling, and turning to Frodo he switched off the x-box and TV set grabbed his wallet and keys, and coerced Frodo out of the house and next door. He trailed in the house after her, fascinated that the design of their homes was flipped completely, and by their decor. Unlike his house, with its painted walls of earthly browns and reds, theirs was a deep sort of blue, very cool and calm as compared to his hungry and warm colors. Theirs was a bit more modern as well, with newer furniture that wasn't bought from antiques shops and bought from custom furniture makers like his was. It was different, but it was good.  
He liked it.  
Most of his interactions with Dís took place over community picnics and that sort. He'd even babysat her sons a few times, but they'd always been at his house, or for an hour or two in either of their backyards. So for that part, he'd never been inside their house before, despite that they'd been neighbors for over two years.

Hurriedly, Dís grabbed hold of her pale-looking husband, who'd nodded a greeting at Bilbo, clutching a towel to his hand, and barked at her sons that Bilbo was watching them and whoever was caught misbehaving got to go down to Beorn's farm and help clean up the horse poo. Quickly, the dark haired woman and her wheat-haired husband dashed out of the house, pulling out of the driveway, tires screeching.

Fíli and Kíli sat at the top of the stairs, staring down at Frodo and Bilbo.

"Oh! Hullo, boys. We've got two hours or so before bedtime. What do you want to do?"

Fíli rolled his eyes a little, carrying himself with the authority of any child who'd just turned ten, and fancied themselves an adult. He flicked his blond hair out of his eyes, taking after his father in that matter, but his eyes were very similar to Dís'. Kíli on the other hand, was seven, and jubilant at seeing Bilbo. His dark head bobbed up and down and he hopped, dark chocolate eyes a perfect copy of his father's. It amused Bilbo that they were obviously halved in this way. Fíli had his father's hair, and his mother's eyes. Kíli had his mother's hair, and his father's eyes.

"Can we watch tv?" Fíli said, just as his younger brother announced; "I'm hungry!"

"Did you eat dinner?" Bilbo asked.

The boys shook their heads. "Da cut up his hand just before they got started." Fíli explained.

"Hm." Bilbo said thoughtfully. "What do you say we order a pizza, then?"

"Yes!" Kíli shouted, jumping down from his perch on the fourth stair. He hugged Bilbo tightly. "You're my favorite Mister Boggins!" Fíli was a little more withdrawn, but Bilbo could see the clear excitement in his eyes as well. Frodo smiled shyly at Kíli, who started rattling off to him at rapid fire, and soon the three boys were on the couch, pulling out their controllers for their Wii-U and playing the newest Mario Kart game.

Running a hand through his hair, and smiling at the unexpected turn, Bilbo pulled out his phone and dialed for his favorite pizza place. Bofur's brother Bombur ran the restaurant, along with his wife Gilda, and their many children. The entire family was a blessing in the kitchen, each extremely skilled in culinary arts. He hoped that they wouldn't be too busy, considering it was a Friday night, and their lasagna was to die for.

Scratching his nose, he smiled when he heard the familiar tones of Bombur's quiet voice. "Yes, hullo Bombur. Could I get two large cheese pizzas as well as one liter of sprite?"

"Will that be carry-out or delivery?"

"Delivery. And oh, could you send your fastest driver? I'm watching three ravenous boys right now, and if they don't get some food soon I'm afraid we might a revolt on our hands."

On the other end, Bombur chuckled, noting that yes, of course, and to expect the delivery in fifteen to twenty minutes. Much to Bilbo's surprise and elation, it was shorter than that, the doorbell ringing a bit over nine minutes after his call. The boys ravaged the pizza like a pack of hungry wolves, and then they continued playing Mario Kart, Bilbo joining in on a round, muttering to himself angrily as he was pelted with a blue shell. Frodo cheered when he won first place, high-fiving Fíli and Kíli with cheer. Their only goal was to beat Bilbo at the game, and now that they had succeeded, the trio gloated, only pausing when Bilbo announced he was getting more pizza from the kitchen. The three boys turned to him with interested looks, and Bilbo assured them that yes, he would get them some as well. Humming to himself, he smiled, surprised at the fun he was having. It may not have been his usual Friday night, but it definitely was wonderful.

He returned with reinforcements, amused at the way they tore into the food like wild animals. He wondered go himself if they could even taste and savor the quality of the pizza. It was made with real mozzarella, and the dough was so thick and warm, expanding pleasantly in his mouth. He savored each bite, wiping his hands on his sweater right when a key turned in the lock of the front door.

Looking up, he met the shocked eyes of Thorin Oakenshield, still stepping through the door. Even tired and harried-looking, the man was still gorgeous. His jet locks were a bit disarrayed, begging to be combed through and touched. His tie was loosened, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a lovely sliver of skin. His startlingly blue eyes were wide in surprise, but quickly settled into an unfazed expression. Heaving a quiet sigh, Thorin closed the door and cast a friendly gaze on his nephews. He cracked a smile at the two boys, and they catapulted at him, squeezing and looking up at him with adoration. He tickled them for a bit, and spun Kíli in the air, whispering something in the seven-year-old's ear that had him giggling hysterically.

He turned to smile at Frodo, who was still on the floor, controller in his hands and pizza crusts on his paper plate. The young boy blinked shyly up at Thorin, grinning a bit. "And who's this?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo cleared his throat. "Ah, well. Um, that's Frodo. My second cousin's kid."

Thorin looked at him, brilliant blue eyes skirting up and down his small frame, taking in ever detail no doubt. Everything from Bilbo's mussed hair, to his oversized sweater, to his greasy fingers and bare feet. Blushing under Thorin's gaze, he fidgeted, and looked at the paused screen of the game.

"I was babysitting him so that he and his wife could go out for the night. And then, er, your sister asked if I could watch these two because Víli cut his hand and she needed to take him to the ER. So I ordered pizza, and…yeah." He finished lamely, blushing still.

Thorin made a noncommittal sound, but didn't move his eyes away from Bilbo. Flustered, Bilbo stuttered out to Fíli and Kíli that it really was far past their bed-time, and that they ought to go to bed, since their mom could be home any minute. When neither boy made a move to get ready, he added that whoever was ready and in bed first would get a day down at the arcade. They pushed past each other, running up the stairs and laughing.

"Frodo, you should get your stuff together. We're about to head home."

Looking a bit groggy, Frodo nodded and set to turning off the TV set, as well as gathering up the toys and 3ds he'd insisted on brining.

Bilbo retreated the to the kitchen, setting about throwing away the paper plates, and wiping his hands on a napkin, as well as turning around to meet Thorin's eyes. Flustered still, he looked up at the taller man.

"Um. There's still some pizza if you want some." He offered, self consciously pulling his curls behind his ears.

Thorin gave him an indecipherable look, and it took all of Bilbo's manners not to jump out of the window and run home. Face reddening, he snaked past Thorin, who stood leaning in the archway that connected the living room and kitchen, heart pounding as he squeezed past the taller man.

Hurriedly, he said goodnight to the boys, left a note for Dís about their lovely behavior, grabbed Frodo and went back next door. Sighing to himself, he sat back down in his armchair, looking down at the cereal bowl that was now soggy.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Bilbo was beginning to doubt himself. What if…what if he did have a crush on Thorin after all? What if Prim and Bofur were right? What if he was lusting and pining for his neighbor?  
The dreams he'd had the night before seemed to suggest as much. He'd woken with a very interested and half-hard cock, aroused by the disconcerting dreams he'd had the night before.

He needed to clear his head. Sweaty and flustered, he pushed his quilts off of him, and ripped off his clothing, trying to cool down as much as possible. (In more ways than one) switching the shower on, Bilbo stepped in, shivering at once from the cold water. Okay, perhaps he needed a cool shower, but was icy really necessary? Muttering to himself, he turned the water up, sighing as the warm droplets pooled over his skin. Humming lowly, he scrubbed at his skin, using the grapefruit antioxidant body scrub that always woke him up. Made him sharper, more alert, less likely to wander back into dream land and have inappropriate dreams about a certain someone.

He was humming still, some random tune he couldn't name at the moment, feeling a bit cheered.

Then, to his dismay, right when he was in the middle of shampooing his hair, he heard the sound of another shower switching on, and the low crooning of Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo froze in the shower, cursing his timing. If only he'd shampooed sooner, or taken a quick ten-minute instead, this wouldn't have happened. But it was too late, Thorin Oakenshield was showering on the other side of the thing wall, humming lowly.

After a fair amount of time, the man began to sing. "Alas, my love you do me wrong…"  
He crooned, beginning a very morbid rendition of Greensleeves. Bilbo listened all the while, convincing himself that there was no harm in doing so. He listened as Thorin went from Greensleeves, to Bohemian Rhapsody, then to Lonely Day and then back to Bohemian Rhapsody and then finally Thorin went back to humming an unrecognizable tune. Bilbo lingered in the shower, hoping that Thorin would sing another song, but the hums continued, and Bilbo enjoyed what he could, contenting himself with the strange and discordant hums. Gradually, the hums became a bit lower pitched, but no less musical, and strangely off-kilter. At first, the hums seemed to be following a precise pattern, a legitimate tune. But now, they seemed a bit discordant. Less organized.

Then, there was a low moan, and Bilbo felt chills erupt on the surface of his skin.

Holy fucking shit. Was Thorin…?

There was another moan, a deep throaty one that had Bilbo shivering in delight, and his cock stiffening in interest. An unbidden image sparked in his mind, one so sharp and clear, he could feel his cock quickly become engorged from it.

Thorin, hunched in the shower, legs shaking, chiseled and hairy stomach rolling as he tugged on his gorgeous cock. He would be slightly red in the face, a lovely blush complimenting the flush of his cock. There would be precome already building up on the head, big, thick, and white droplets easing out of the slit. His body would be tense, muscles bunching up as he panted heavily. He would be biting his lip, and there'd be water droplets clinging to his hair, his beard, his eyelashes.

A lovely sight, indeed.

There was another moan, followed by a low curse.

A lovely sound.

All reservations and thoughts of self-preservation were abandoned, and against his better self, Bilbo pulled at his cock. He bucked upwards into his hand, covering his mouth with his left, trying his hardest not to groan and whimper.

 **Thrust**.

Another low moan.

 **Pause**.

A louder moan.

 **Quick thrust into a** **fist**.

A whimper, followed by a beautiful groan.

_Slow down. You don't want this to be over too fast. Don't be overeager._

**Wait**.

"Ah!"

 _Fuck_.

_So gorgeous.  
Thorin sounded so gorgeous like that._

A whine.

 **Thrust**.

"Yes. Yes. Yes…"

 _Very good. Very_ , _very good._

"Mmh…"

 **Hard thrust**.

The moans steadily become louder, more unhinged. Thorin was nearing, reaching his climax. The thought made Bilbo's heart pound, and his needs rise.

 **Faster**.  
 **Faster.  
Faster now**.

The moans were louder, Thorin was swearing.

"Ah! Fuck… yes. Yes. Yes! So good…"

Bilbo pumped his hand, leaning back against the shower wall, panting lowly, sure that Thorin wouldn't hear him over his own moans.

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Yes! Very good.

Bilbo struggled not to moan in answer.

"Shit. Yes. Ahhh. Mm. Yes. Very good! Very good, Baggins!"

Bilbo's ears deceived him. Certainly Thorin couldn't have said his name…  
If only there was a way to be sure.

"Fuck!" Thorin swore, his moans getting even louder, climbing to a decibel Bilbo hadn't thought possible. "Ah. Agh! Fuck! Bilbo!"  
The sound of Thorin orgasming, as well as yelling his name while doing so, was too much for Bilbo.

So gorgeous.  
Thorin sounded so gorgeous this way.

Bilbo came, a low grunt escaping from his mouth, as well as a low keening whine and sigh. He came in waves, cock throbbing pleasantly as euphoria climbed over him. He slumped in the shower, pressing his head against the shower wall and panting lowly. He sighed, slowly climbing down from what must have been the best orgasm of his life.

Imagine what fucking the real man would be like.

 

•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Dís was smirking at him from across the kitchen table, with an all too knowing look. Thorin ignored her, instead focusing on buttering his raisin bread and eating it. He took a large bite of his toasted bread, avoiding his sister's gaze. He was on the way to swallowing, until Dís had to go and open her very annoying mouth.

"Very good, Baggins." She muttered underneath her breath, making her brother choke on his bread and cough it back up. Swallowing a large glass of water and feeling his face flush, Thorin focused on chewing his bread. Slower this time. With smaller bites.

"You should ask him out already." She insisted, stretching a bit and looking down at her Phillipa Gregory book. She looked back up at him, waiting for some kind of response, looking impatient. Thorin didn't answer, and very pointedly rose from his seat to wash his plate.

"You should be glad at least that the boys are having a play date with Gimli at Gloin's, otherwise the poor kiddos might've been scarred for life. With all your wailing about." She snickered. "Jesus, Thorin. Why don't you invest in a gag? Or wait till no one's around? Or maybe actually ask the guy out?"

"Shut up." Thorin growled, standing from the table and heading back upstairs towards his room. Dís dashed after him, opening the door go yell;

"Seriously though! It's not healthy to be this sexually frustrated!"

Thorin threw a pillow at her, and missed. She laughed manically and slammed the door. Sighing, he pressed his face into his bed cushions. He didn't know what came over him. He was already pretty horny, since stress tended to do that to him, and work was pretty heavy lately. He'd had to put in 4 nights late last week, and today was his only day off. And then he'd come home, to seeing Bilbo in his house, on his couch, wiping and licking his fingers, curls deliciously missed, sweater a bit too large. Large enough where Thorin could pretend it was _his_ sweater on the small man.

He was so small. He needed to be protected. Grabbed up. Kissed violently. Fucked passionately.

He fucking couldn't help himself. The entire night, he'd had dreams of a naked Bilbo running in the forest, flowers in his hair, smirking at Thorin. Always out of arms reach, until Thorin had finally caught him. And then he had pressed his delicious body against Thorin's, so soft and lovely, and kissed him. Thorin had woken up with a pounding heart, and when he's gone to take a shower, the image of a naked Bilbo was burned in the back of his mind, and then he'd started touching himself. It was glorious. The entire time he thought of the lovely man, his warm eyes, his tawny hair, his delectable ass and soft body.

Thorin wanted him. Thorin wanted him so bad.

He knew he'd been loud, but Bilbo inspired it from him. He was the type of man to inspire passion. And Thorin was never good at repressing his emotions, not for long anyway. And not when he felt this strongly.

Yet Dís' question stood. Why didn't he ask Bilbo out?

Fear, maybe. Nervousness.

The idea of approaching that small sexy little man was a bit overwhelming. But the question still stood.

Why hadn't he? Why didn't he?

If he were to amount it to something, it would be that he felt a bit too strongly for Bilbo. Especially when they didn't know each other very well. It was embarrassing, the fact that he was so utterly besotted. That he felt that this had some colossal significance, that perhaps they were meant to be. Which was ridiculous. This much he knew.

He had adored Bilbo on sight, and it terrified him. It terrified him that he could fall so quickly and completely for someone. It was awful. It was scary. He hated Bilbo for it. For making him fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


	7. Dweeb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killiel.  
> Kíli is a college student dragged to some sort of poetry-slam down with the government sort of thing, and he is completely out of his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh so this is my first time writing Killiel. Let me know what you think. I hope you like it.

Kíli wasn't very fond of these sort of things. That wasn't to say that he hated politics, he just didn't care for them, and truth be told, he was completely out of his element. He didn't know who to talk to, or about what, and everything he said or did seemed to be some sort of cultural faux pas. Which was extremely confusing. When he went completely liberal, to try to earn some sympathy in this group all he's gotten were dirty looks, but if he expressed conservative ideals in the least he's gotten even worse looks like he'd murdered a baby. Glancing over at his brother told him that their usual roles were reversed for the first time in a long while.

Fíli looked completely at ease, which was a nice change, usually he was ramrod straight– body tensed, eyes charged, standing in the back with his usual quiet demeanor. He want being any louder than usual today, no, he was just relaxed. Completely relaxed.

Kíli wasn't.

This wasn't his type of scene at all. A bunch of smart hipster kids gathering around and ranting about political upheavals and indignities wasn't the type of thing he liked to do on a Friday night. These kids were all so much smarter than him, and it was almost annoying that Fíli was so relaxed and happy among them, nodding and looking very passionate about the slam poetry. So Kíli hung back, sipping at some extremely sugary coffee that he'd bought across the street, which had earned more glares. But he didn't care. All the coffee in here was black, without sugar, without cream, or really anything to actually make it taste good.

Excuse him for saying so, but he really liked the caramel frappuccinos at Starbucks; even if they were "an evil capitalist company fed off by the slave labor of poverty-stricken peoples". Which he didn't get at all. He knew a lot of big-shot companies did that for manufacturing their clothing and products, but Starbucks was coffee. Where were they getting this information from anyway? He didn't understand anything of what they were saying, and in all honesty, felt like he was dying inside due to boredom.

To make matters worse, their neighbor Bard's hot daughter was giving Fíli the side eye, practically sitting in his lap. And usually Fíli shook girls off, ignoring them and often telling them that he wasn't interested. Yet, Fíli didn't appear to mind in the slightest, and actually seemed to be inviting her closer into his lap. And now, to Kíli's annoyance, she actually was in his brother's lap, and Fíli had his arm curled around her waist, rubbing his face along the elegant slide of her neck.

Their roles really had switched, if Fíli was hooking up with a girl, and Kíli wasn't.

He was staring on his phone, playing TwoDots, waiting for this to wrap up, when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He looked over, meeting the eyes of his distant cousin Gimli. Gimli punched him in the shoulder as a greeting, flashing him a crooked grin. Kíli punched back, smiling at the way Gimli winced and clutched his arm.

"I didn't know you came to these." Gimli said, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't." Kíli groused, sulking. "It was Fíli who dragged me here." They both looked over, raising their eyebrows when greeted with the sight of Fíli kissing Sigrid long and slowly, mouths slotting together as she curled her hand on his thigh. Gimli gave a low whistle.

"Aye. I feel for you. Leggy likes these things now, and I only come for the free shitty coffee."

"And because you love him."

"That too." Gimli agreed, smirking at his cousin. "But with an ass like that, you can't help but come."

Kíli snickered at the double entendre, looking over to see if Legolas really did have an ass that wouldn't quit, but instead of commenting on it, like he usually would've, he felt his breath whoosh out of his lungs, and his stomach give an anxious squeeze.

Next to Legolas, stood the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

She was tall, about as tall as the blond, with killer long legs and a slender body. She was willowy and long, with narrow hips, small shoulders and an angled body. Her long red hair trailed down her back, a deep leafy green beanie pulled over it, with the letters GRNWD UNI, marking her as a student at Greenwood University. She wore a large oversized brown sweater that hung on her frame, exposing her pale freckled shoulders, and a dark pair of combat boots tucked over her dark blue skinny jeans. She had sharp cheekbones and a angular face, drawing attention to her dark brown eyes. And that's when Kíli felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Kíli had always adored brown eyes. Any shade of brown eyes. Dark brown eyes. Pale brown eyes. Honey brown eyes. Chocolate brown eyes. For some reason, people with brown eyes were always prettier to him. It was his weakness. Beyond that, he'd always had a weakness for gingers with brown eyes, not to mention that he was more often than not into women taller than him.

While Fíli, like the rest of the hetero and bi men in the family, usually preferred curvier women. Women with voluptuous thighs and full busts, plump in all the right places. Kíli himself tended to prefer the tall, leggy, thin body types. He was more often than not teased for it, but he didn't really care, since there was no harm intended. Everyone had their own type, Kíli would be a fool not to know that. His was just tall and slender women, and he really couldn't be faulted for that.

"Who's that?" Kíli said, exhaling in a rush, sounding as breathless as he felt. Gimli glanced over at his boyfriend and the gorgeous girl, looking disinterested.

"Oh. That's Tauriel. She's Leggy's adopted sister."

"Hm." Kíli just nodded, his eyes unmoving from where Tauriel stood, ranting to Legolas about something or other.

"She's the reason why he comes in the first place. She's passionate about this sort of thing, extremely socialist. All about distributing the wealth. I guess he got dragged into it."

"Yeah?" Kíli asked, looking back over at Gimli. "Isn't she Thranduil's kid though? That means she's rich as hell."

Gimli shrugged a shoulder. "I think that's probably why she's so passionate. She was fortunate. Growing up in a wealthy family, but she hasn't forgotten about the children who haven't been quite so lucky." Gimli gave his cousin a slow look, understanding dawning in his eyes. "In fact, I think she can tell you more about it herself."

Before Kíli could protest or say something, anything, Gimli yelled for his tosser boyfriend to come over, gathering both Legolas and Tauriel's attention, much to Kíli's dismay.  
Kíli felt his stomach give an anxious rumble, and he leaned back against the wall, feeling extremely nervous.

Mahal, if this were anywhere else he wouldn't be panicking like this. He wouldn't be blushing with his stomach twisting and his heart pounding. He would be as smooth as butter, giving her a few honeyed words and some well placed jokes, instead of freaking out the way he currently was.

Legolas and Tauriel ambled over in a blink, the tall siblings towering over him. He gave a nervous chuckle, giving Tauriel a tentative smile, noticing the unimpressed look on her face.

"Hey, Leggy." Gimli rumbled, smirking, tugging his boyfriend down for a very long and very affectionate kiss. So affectionate that it made everyone except for Gimli blush, who only ran his thumb over Legolas' bottom lip. Clearing his throat, he spared a glance at Tauriel, smiling and nodding at her. She gave him an amused nod, raising an eyebrow at his antics.

"This is Kíli, by the way. My cousin." Gimli added, motioning to the brunette shifting his weight. Kíli leaned forward and shook her hand, muttering a hello, nodding and saying hello to Legolas, cheeks still flaming. Tauriel gave him the once over, her dark eyes boring into his before she turned to Legolas and said; "I'm ready to go. I think I've had enough for one night."

Legolas scowled at her, and shifted closer to Gimli, pouting and draping an arm around the short ginger. She shot him an exasperated look, and crossed her arms. "Legolas. I need someone I trust to walk me home."  
Legolas looked over at Kíli, brightening up.  
"Kíli can walk you back. It's only four blocks."

Tauriel reddened, and pulled on her brother, whispering in his ear furiously. He pulled back and shot her an annoyed look.

"Oh my goodness, fine. But Gimli's coming with." He huffed angrily.

Then the three of them traipsed out, leaving Kíli behind to stare at Legolas' butt, realizing that Gimli was right. Legolas really did have an ass that wouldn't quit.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Kíli seemed to run into almost Tauriel almost everywhere for the remainder of the semester. Once at a costume party, several times at Bilbo's bookshop, a few more times late at night in the park, twice at Gimli's (since Legolas was almost always there and Tauriel never really strayed from her brother's side), and almost every day at the vintage arcade.

Sometimes she blew him off, scoffing at his pick up lines with snide comebacks, often she rolled her eyes and left, but a few times, on really rare occasions she laughed at the things he said, grinning brightly at him.

Tonight seemed to be one of those nights. Fíli and Kíli had decided to throw a party for the hell of it, to celebrate the oncoming fall break. They were halfway through the semester, and pretty soon the college campuses would be empty, since everyone would be returning home. Kíli had invited Tauriel on a whim, sure she wouldn't come anyway, since Legolas and Gimli weren't going to stay very long. But to his surprise, she'd shown up, looking killer hot as usual, and even further baffling him, she'd approached him.

At first her questions were baffling, (why would she want to know anything about him?) but after a while he loosened up, even volunteering a few stories about his family.

"Yeah, Uncle Thorin was helplessly in love with him. We went to his bookshop almost every day, for like two years until Bilbo gave up and just asked the poor sod out."

Tauriel snickered, her nose bunching up. "That's cute. I never would have thought the terrifying Thorin Durin would be a shy little thing."

Kíli shrugged a shoulder. "I guess we Durin men are like that."

Tauriel guffawed. "You? You're not."

"Yes, I am! I can be sensitive and shy sometimes." He protested.

"No. You've been flirting with me constantly, you haven't been shy in the least." She pointed out.

Kíli shook his head and shot her a grin. "Yeah? Well what about you?"

She glared at him. "What about me?"

"You've been flirting with me all night." He accused, smirking at her.

She laughed and shook her head, subtly leaning closer. "Have not.

"Have too." He said, staring deep into her eyes.

"Nope. Not at all."

"Then why're you moving closer?"

"Maybe it's so I can punch you in the face." She said, voice husky and low, making Kíli involuntarily shudder.

"I'd like to see you try." He said, tilting his head forward and capturing her lips. It was meant to be a gentle kiss, a short and sweet little peck, but Tauriel scooted closer, and then she opened her mouth and moaned deep into it, sending electricity tingling down his spine. Then before Kíli could say "Mahal's beard", Tauriel was pressing her body into his, lips and tongues and teeth gnashing together in a violent kiss. She pressed her hands roughly into his sides, her right hand so deep in his flesh he was sure it would bruise. He carded a hand through her hair and met her equally, nibbling on her lower lip and sucking on it to ease the sting. Her tongue eased into his mouth, tasting him with a force that left his head spinning. When they at last pulled apart for breath, Kíli's shirt was lopsided, and Tauriel's lips were a deep dangerous red. It made Kíli's stomach clench at the knowledge that it was him that did this to her. It was him that left her panting, hair bedraggled and lips swollen. And oh goodness, he would love to do it again.

Then she punched him in the shoulder, slid a slip of paper in his hand and walked off. Kíli stared after her, dazed and dumbstruck. He looked down into his palm, grinning down at the phone number written in a long and scratched scrip.

 ** _Text_** **_me_** **_dweeb_** **_678-493_** ** _1_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. I hope this was to your liking. I kinda have a feeling that Kíli would be really smooth with girls, but he's so caught off guard that he's quiet and kinda shy and when he is back in his flirty mojo, Tauriel is completely unimpressed (at least at face value, she actually adores his pick-up lines) and doesn't take him very seriously.


	8. The Other Side pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's POV for the Other Side. Fíli's birthday celebration happens, as well as some other unexpected occurrences. 
> 
> Oh, and Thorin is a pervert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got a few requests here and a lot in my tumblr inbox insisting that I write a sequel to The Other Side. Based off the reactions, I will write a third part, and maybe a fourth, depending on how I feel and where the story goes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

 

Sunday was full of unexpected events for Thorin. The first being that Dís had gone out for brunch and to the spa with Víli, expecting Thorin to stay behind and babysit. Payback for overhearing his shower escapade apparently, which Thorin didn't entirely understand; it wasn't as if he _wanted_ her to overhear. But it was well within reason. He knew to invest in really good headphones and noise blocking earplug since moving in with his sister. The first week of living with her made it impossible to look at either her or Víli without gagging for a month. Hearing your sibling jerk off or have sex was a terrible experience he wouldn't wish on his greatest enemies.

Fíli and Kíli were in a horrid mood as well, so Thorin took them to the park in an attempt to rid them of their high energy and screaming fits. It didn't work too well, sadly. If anything the heat outside only made them worse, and the two were tussling in the sandbox when Thorin finally gave up and said they'd get some ice cream. The pair were suddenly best pals right afterwards, making Thorin wonder if they were fighting just so he'd get them junk food. It wouldn't have been the first time that they came up with a plot for some treat or other. Feeling exhausted and sweaty, Thorin turned the AC up to full blast, and drove to their favorite sweet shoppe. It was a family owned place, and had the best icecream in town. It was the real thing too, made right there in the store. It certainly didn't make things worse that the place had three floors, and you could watch your taffy being pulled, if you wanted.

Thorin parked the car and unlocked the car doors, shaking his head as his nephews hopped out of their seats,and started jumping up and down and chanting "ice cream" together. Scratching his beard, Thorin opened the door, sighing as Fíli and Kíli ran into the store, garnering all sorts of looks from the people inside, as per usual. At first Thorin had planned to only give them one scoop each, but they gave him puppy eyes and it was so damned hot outside. Fíli got a classic triple scooped banana split sundae, complete with walnuts, hot fudge, whipped cream and even a maraschino cherry. Kíli on the other hand, got a complete mess; a hodgepodge of cotton candy, cherry, cake-batter, mint, pistachio, cheesecake and marshmallow flavored icecream with a mixture of gummy bears, Oreos, Reese's pieces and actual marshmallows thrown in. Thorin terribly suppressed his grimace at the sugary mixture, opting out for a cone with a chocolate scoop.  
Thorin took out his wallet to pay, whipping his head around when he heard Kíli exclaim excitedly.

"Mr. Boggins!"

Thorin turned to see Fíli and Kíli running over to sit with Bilbo, Frodo, and a light haired green eyed-woman. Freezing, Thorin contemplated hanging back and letting his nephews socialize, but Kíli turned back towards him and very loudly yelled for him to come and sit. Clenching his teeth, and cursing the situation, Thorin gracefully sat, facing Bilbo and smiling at the others.

"I hope we aren't intruding…" Thorin rumbled, his voice unintentionally dropping an octave. He looked up at Bilbo from underneath his lashes, watching as the smaller man flushed immediately and focused his gaze on the strawberry icecream in his dish. He made a high pitched squeaking sound, and avoided Thorin's gaze, shooting panicked looks at the sandy-blond haired woman next to him. Shooting Bilbo a devious look, the woman smiled at Thorin.

"It's fine, actually. We certainly don't mind." She said. Turning back to Thorin, she shot her hand forward for a shake. "I'm Primula Baggins. And this is my son Frodo. Who I was told you met the other night."

Thorin hummed in acknowledgment. "I'm Thorin. These two little hellions are demons posing as my nephews; Fíli and Kíli."

Said hellions grinned up at Thorin, pleased at their title. Primula laughed at that, and even little Frodo gave a pleased giggle, but that may have been from the weird faces Kíli was making at him. Thorin looked at Bilbo for his reaction, but his neighbor seemed hell bent on staring down with a heavy flush. Thorin suppressed his sigh of disappointment, and lapped at his icecream,  
Thorin faded out of the conversation, eyes roaming over Bilbo's face.

His tawny hair was mussed, curls falling into his face as he looked down. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked upwards at Thorin, steely blue-grey eyes darkening into green, and then brown. His flush deepened, and he gave Thorin a small hesitant smile. Nervously chewing on his lower lip. There was a bit of icecream lingering on his mouth, and embarrassingly enough, Thorin was fantasizing about leaning across the table and kissing it off of him. Bilbo broke his gaze and looked over to address Fíli, and Thorin forced himself to pay attention.

Bilbo smiled and nodded at Fíli. "Of course Frodo and I will come to your birthday party, we wouldn't miss it for the world."

Kíli scowled. "You'll come to my birthday party too, right?" He demanded, pulling on Bilbo's sleeve.

"Kee, I would be honored to go to your birthday party. Even if it's several months away." Bilbo said with complete seriousness, smiling down at the pouting child.

Kíli brightened immediately, waving his goodbye enthusiastically as they left. Fíli smiled and waved as well, excited as well, but far more subdued.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•…•

 

Thorin liked Bilbo for multiple reasons. The man was intelligent, attentive, mischievous, fun, typically pragmatic, kind, insightful, and fairly charismatic. Not to mention that he was unbearably sweet, doting on Thorin's nephews even thought they were nothing but rabble-rousers, and somehow able to tame them with nothing more but a look. But one of the largest reasons Thorin liked Bilbo was because he had a _fantastic_ ass. Not to say that was the primary reason, but it was pretty high on the list.

Thorin adored Bilbo's ass. It was shaped wonderfully, plump and soft-looking, round and plush. He'd bet anything that the skin would be smooth, and the flesh would be a wonderful thing to hold, overflowing in his hands. Thorin actually spent a lot of time thinking about Bilbo's ass.

How he'd grab it, squeeze the muscle, pinch the fat, tickle the flesh. He'd rest his face on it, since he was entirely convinced that it would be terribly soft to the touch. He'd bite that ass, slap it too, watch it quake as the force of his hand vibrated through it. He'd eat out that ass, until Bilbo was a shaking over sensitive pile of mush. He'd bury his fingers in that ass. He would bury his cock in that ass, watch it jiggle as it bounced up and down on his lap.

Goodness. The things he would do for that ass.

Bilbo was running around the backyard with Kíli, tickling him when he got the chance, letting the boy tackle him to the ground and yelling that he'd won the game. Kíli danced around, victorious, but then Bilbo had snuck up on him and pulled him back down, waging tickling war again. Eventually though, the small man was exhausted, and he sat down at the shaded adults table, between Thorin and Dís.  
Dís had her sunglasses on, hiding the intense blue of her eyes, her dark hair pulled up into a bun at the top of her head, a few tendrils escaping, trailing down the back of her neck. She was complaining about the heat, as per usual, muttering about wanting to move back up north. To the rescue, Víli swept in, handing her a pink lemonade with a heavy kick of vodka. She murmured a thank you to her husband and leaned over to kiss him.

Thorin rolled his eyes and looked back out over the yard, lavishing in the sight of his family running around, enjoying the afternoon sun. There were streamers and balloons everywhere, due to Fili's tenth birthday. For four months he'd been parading around that he was ten already, and whoever dared to disagree would find some sort of worm or creep crawly in their shoes or shirts later. Fíli has decided he wanted a ninja theme, so of course Frerin had bought him a fake katana. The pile of presents was growing by the hour, much to Fíli's delight and excitement.

Right now, he was chasing Dain's dog around with it, running after it with the remaining gaggle of children. Gimli, Kíli and Dain's two daughters trailing behind. For some reason, Dís had decided to invite a few kids from Fíli's summer art class too. Which meant that two of Thranduil's kids were there too. Tauriel, the ginger girl, was wild, running the fastest and successfully tackling the dog. Legolas, the platinum blond boy, was a bit more subdued, but he and Gimli were fighting one minute, then playing the next. Dís had even invited their neighbor Bard and his wife and kids, as well as several other neighbors. The two eldest; Sigrid and Bain had started a new game, one that entailed harassing Dain's poor dog again. Another neighbor, Beorn, had brought some of his bunnies, so Frodo, Ori and Tilda were sitting next to the giant of a man, petting the animals softly. Dain was arguing with Dori about the barbecuing, inserting his own commentary about the state of the meat. Frerin was standing over with Nori, Dwalin and Gloin, drinking their beers and muttering to each other in gruff voices. Freris and Thrain were chatting up Thranduil, who actually seemed to be enjoying himself for once. Balin was sharing some folklore or other with Bard and his wife Vivian, puffing up with pride and obviously relishing a conversation with fellow history buffs. Dain's wife walked over to the grill and shooed at the men , yelling that they didn't know a thing about cooking. Gloin's wife Freya was lazing back in the sun, relaxing and reading her book. Gandalf was walking around the party, leaning over people's shoulders to comment on things and generally annoy everyone.

All in all, it was a pretty full party, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Which was a rare occurrence with a family this big and diverse.

But back to Bilbo's ass. Bilbo was currently wearing a pale yellow collared button up, paired with dark brown shorts (which complimented that delectable ass) and no shoes. He had flip-flops around somewhere, but he'd abandoned them so he could run around with the children. Because Thorin was feeling a bit daring and bored, he'd nudged the table, which sent Bilbo's glass of virgin lemonade over the edge, but to Thorin's dismay, the entire tub of icecream too, which admittedly was open and had been melting. Bilbo muttered an apology, and immediately bent down, perky ass in the air as he scrabbled to wipe up his mess.

Thorin bit his lip and suppressed a filthy groan, imagining all the things he would do if that ass was up in the air in an entirely different situation. Dís cleared her throat, and Thorin flushed, meeting her gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him, and mouthed " _ **You fucking pervert."**_

Thorin shrugged a shoulder and looked back down at Bilbo's ass, curling his hands into fists. Goodness. Bilbo's ass was delectable. Dís cleared her throat again, loud enough to catch Bilbo's attention.

  
"Bilbo, why don't you let me do it? I'm going to need someone to run to the store and pick some up." Everyone at the table looked at each other, since nearly every adult there had had a drink within the past half hour. Except for Bilbo and Thorin of course.

Bilbo flushed and quickly volunteered. "Since I'm the one who knocked it over and everything."

Dís gave Thorin an evil smile. "That's okay. Thorin will drive you, since you're paying. And things go by a lot faster with two people." Smirking at Thorin's discomfort, she laughed and pushed at them to go. "Hurry, before the little ones notice and stage a military coupe. I don't want my regime being overthrown."

Bilbo gave her a pleading, begging sort of look, eyes wide as he sulked. But Dís would not be swayed. Bilbo slipped his shoes back on and slowly slid into the passenger side of the car, looking to the left, avoiding Thorin's gaze completely. The car ride was nearly silent, until Thorin had huffed a sigh and switched the radio on, hoping to cut out the silence. It was classical of course, since Thorin tended to listen to it to wind down on his way home. Bilbo hummed along to Swan Lake, relaxing up a bit, sinking back a little into his seat. To Thorin's displeasure, he stiffened back up and flushed when Thorin parked the car, and muttered that they were here.

They walked in silence again, heading towards the frozen foods section when Thorin glanced over to the right, and saw a familiar fuzzy hat.

"Bofur!" He yelled, making the hatted man flinch and drop the can he was holding. Next to him Bilbo went still and silent, his jaw dropping open.  
Bofur slowly walked over, looking a bit sheepish. Bilbo glared at him. "Hey Thorin. Hey Bilbo."

"You know him?" Thorin and Bilbo said simultaneously.

Bofur flinched again. "Ahh. Well." He cleared his throat."Thorin and I are distantly related. And er, Bilbo is my best friend." He explained, scratching the back of his neck.

"Why didn't you come to Fíli's party? He wanted to see you." Thorin asked.

Bofur flinched again. "Well Bom and the family are sick, and Bif wasn't feeling up to it, so we all decided to stay home."

Thorin nodded, and shoulder checked him, smiling. "Well, let us know next time. Dís would've sent a care package."

Bofur nodded, and gave Bilbo a nervous smile. Bilbo glared at him accusingly, muttering a "I'll talk to you later." before turning on his heel and striding off towards the ice creams.

"Small town." Thorin commented, standing next to him.

Bilbo didn't answer, only tilting his head to glance up at Thorin, face flushing before he shook his head and turned away. After what must have been ten minutes of standing there, Bilbo grabbed several tubs of icecream, grabbing an empty cart and throwing them in. He strode off towards another section, and Thorin followed, staring at his ass again.

Bilbo grabbed marshmallows, gummies, fudge, caramel, whipped cream, maraschino cherries, sprinkles and all sorts of other toppings, and all at a wickedly fast pace that had Thorin grinning from ear to ear. He didn't know why, but the shopping struck him as strangely domestic, and for a moment he imagined that this was normal for them, that they did this all the time. The image was so clear in his head that he resisted from grabbing Bilbo's waist and kissing him right there and then.

The party went on successfully, and Thorin suspected that all the icecream Bilbo bought had something to do with it. That afternoon, he had successfully won over more than one Durin, and Bilbo was seemingly flattered by it. Around five, Bilbo started to drink, and his inhibitions were suddenly gone. He wasn't drunk, at least he didn't seem to be, and he repeatedly said that he wasn't, he was a bit tipsy, Thorin would say.

But if the turn of events were anything to go off of, Thorin would have suspected it to be more than liquid courage. After a long talk on the phone with Bofur, he seemed braver somehow, looser around Thorin. And more than once, Thorin wondered if Bilbo was flirting with him.

Bilbo swirled his tongue around the tip of his cone, a large morsel disappearing into his mouth as he swallowed. He kept his eyes on Thorin the entire time, and Thorin cleared his throat multiple times, face burning as Bilbo's eyes bored into him. More than once,Bilbo bumped into him, chest pressing against him as he fluttered his eyelashes and smirked. He muttered a few innuendos and several double entendres, making Thorin choke on his drink more than once.  
And as the hours crept on, Bilbo drank more and more, becoming more audacious and flirtatious, obviously drunk by the time Fíli and Kíli had been put to bed, and everyone had mostly left.

Then, he was hunched over a toilet, throwing up as Thorin rubbed his back. Thorin wipes the remainders of the vomit from his face, and then Bilbo frll asleep. Thorin carried the drunk man into his room, replaced his clothes with something less covered in vomit, coercered him into drinking water, layed him on his side and put him to bed. Thorin threw down a bunch of pillows and blankets, resting on the small couch, body cramping up on the furniture much too short for his own frame.

Thorin wokr a bit before Bilbo does, the sunlight through his window grazing across the room. His body feeling stiff and feels crooked, so he stretched, feeling sweaty and nasty. He ambled into the shower, scrubbing and rubbing at his skin until he doesn't feel quite so "blegh" anymore. After a half hour or so, he stepped out, towel draped across his hips, and he's greeted with the sight of Bilbo, slowly waking up.

Feeling sappy all of a sudden, he takes a long a moment to fully appraise Bilbo, before he notices.

His hair is flattened on one side, the little tufts of curls protruding in weird bunches, looking ridiculously soft. Practically begging to be touched. His large hazel eyes are tainted with sleepiness, heavy and dark, blinking dazedly around the room. He looks a bit nauseous, and probably has a killer hangover, but that doesn't stop Thorin from staring. Bilbo's ridiculously tiny, unbelievably so. His lips are pale, and Thorin can't help but wonder if he can change that, if he can kiss those lips so hard that they swell and bruise, parted slightly, huffing out his breath. He'swearing one of Thorin's old shirts. An old one, from an old local concert of some underground band he used to like. The sight of it, makes Thorin flush with pleasure. He looks dwarfed in it, impossibly small and gorgeous, and more than anything Thorin wants to see him in more of his clothes.

Bilbo fidgets, and his eyes dart around the room, finally finding Thorin. His eyes widen, and a blush spreads on his face. Thorin has to resist from grinning, he loves that blush.

Thorin wants badly to lean across the bed and kiss Bilbo right now. He wants to cradle Bilbo to his chest and kiss him languidly and achingly, to make him cry out and whimper for more.. He wants to touch Bilbo, to run his fingers over his face slowly. He wants to stare at him for hours, to touch and see every freckle every blemish every curve and line. Thorin wants to taste every inch of Bilbo's body until Bilbo is screaming his name. He wants to curl his hands into Bilbo's beautiful ass and never let go.

Thorin feels himself flush with desire for this ridiculous creature not sitting more than six feet from him.

Bilbo says his name carefully, "Thorin." It's so soft, Thorin can barely hear it. He licks his lips slowly, and Thorin's stomach clenches. He wants to kiss him so badly.

"Bilbo." He says in response, voice surprisingly low and hoarse.

Bilbo's blush deepened and Thorin can't help but wonder what he's thinking about.

Bilbo's eyes widen and suddenly he's looking away, away from Thorin, clutching his sheets desperately. "I'm sorry about all of this." He says in quick rush of breath, face coloring into a fiery red. He squabbles to grab for his glasses, perching them on his nose, avoiding Thorin's eyes.

Thorin opens his mouth to say Bilbo has nothing to be sorry for, but it's too late. Bilbo has already stood and walked out the door, pausing to look at Thorin from behind his shoulder before he does.


	9. The Lovers, The Dreamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's dream from The Other Side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, I'm not sure why this chapter happened or how. It's very short, but I hope you'll like it anyway.

The sun filters through the treetops, warming his skin, painting it in soft hues of pale golden light. The earth hums beneath him, singing an indescribable tune, caressing his soul. He is a son of deep earth, of mountains, and metal and stone, but this, this green smell of soil and root and tree is not lost on him. There are feather-light touches on his face, warm and listlessly trailing at a relaxed pace.

He opens his eyes, and He is there.

His eyes are brown, but they're more than that. His eyes are the deep musk of root and soil. They are earthly and dark, fertile and rich. His face is framed by sandy brown curls, glimmering golden from the sun. There are flowers in those curls, nestling naturally, bright and sublime.His rosy mouth is open in surprise, pale wisps of breath blowing over Thorin's face.  
Thorin gazes back up at Him, at the strange naked creature sitting on him, staring down into his eyes, touching his beard.

Thorin speaks. "Who are you?"

Then, the fingers are gone, and He stares at Thorin, fearfully, and then He runs. And Thorin follows. He is running ridiculously fast, silent and dangerous, lips moving upwards into something reminiscent of a smirk. He giggles and runs, darting behind trees, jumping over roots, rolling under branches, smooth and sleek and feral. He laughs at Thorin, taunts him with His sly looks and grinning lips, always out of arms reach.

Thorin feels like they're running forever, and then He stops.

He turns around and looks at Thorin, still smiling, shoulders shaking with mirth, and Thorin reaches for Him slowly, very afraid. When Thorin touches Him, He doesn't run or yell, or bite, or do any of the things he'd thought would happen. His grin widens, and He lets Thorin touch Him.

Then, He presses his body flush against Thorin's, soft in all the best of ways, layered in soft and pale hairs, grinning again. Then he leans upwards and captures Thorin's mouth in a firm kiss, leaving his heart to catapult from his chest. They kiss slowly, achingly, making something deep within Thorin tremble, his bones quaking with happiness and fear. And then He pulls away, still looking up, still smiling.

"Bilbo." He whispers into Thorin's ear, pressing their mouths to meet again. It sets Thorin's heart on fire, and his soul aches for more, wanting to press closer and run away from Him, from Bilbo. Bilbo breaks the kiss again, and He curls Himself on Thorin's chest, arms tight around his body. A grip so tight Thorin knows he shall never to be able to break loose.

Like roots, settling alongst stone.

And in the new silence, Thorin is beginning to think he was the one being chased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has hints and a metaphor for their relationship... Can anyone guess it?


	10. Majestic Horndog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wakes up one morning to very confusing texts and voicemails, and for the life of him, he can't remember what the hell happened last night. Plus, there's a gorgeous man, whose name he can't remember that won't leave his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was actually planning out the next chapter for The Other Side and this happened.  
> Let me know what you think.

"Thorin, c'mon. You have to go out with us this time. I'm telling you, those Shire folk are something crazy…Call me back."

 **Message deleted**.

"Hey, let me know if it doesn't work out for you and that guy you left with. I'm more than happy to pick up the pieces. He was really hot too—"

 **Message deleted**.

"Hey Thor, call me when you're up? The boys said you left the party with some guy? Well, anyway, Dwalin and Frerin really want to talk with you, they have some very interesting blackmail-worthy photos from last night. They showed me, and holy shit brother, I never pegged you for the type to do _that_."

 **Saved message**.

This new message begins with giggling. "You are so ridiculous. I can't wait to show everyone at the next family reunion."

 **Saved message**.

"Hey, give me a call when you're up and ready. How did things go? That guy you left with was pretty cool, actually. Way too cool for you. Has he left yet…? Or are you two still at it? Well, never mind it if you are. Just give me a call when you can."

**You have no more new messages.**

Thorin exited his voice mailbox, scrolling through his texts, trying his hardest to piece together what it was that happened last night. He was feeling incredibly uneasy, noticing that all his recent outgoing texts where incomprehensible autocorrected gibberish. And for the most part his recent incoming texts were incredibly vague, mentioning his excursions from the night before, and some unmentionably huge crazy thing that he'd done. Not a single text had actually gone out and said what it was that he'd done, for the most part people just described it; horrifying, hilarious, fucked-up and deplorable. He'd gotten a ridiculous amount of texts from numbers he didn't have saved in his contacts, all of them commenting or congratulating the things he'd done. It was incredibly horrifying. Apparently he'd tried to fight Thranduil, had told Bard that his beard was disappointing, thrown a fruitcake out the window, (and the cake was horrible too, supposedly) slashed Thranduil's tires, made a disgusting amount of dick jokes, and made out with a stranger on top of antique dining room table.

The worst part was that he couldn't remember a lick of it. He closed his eyes, and tried his hardest to remember, but his memory only went so far as to when he'd finally given in to Frerin's cajoling and went to the party, and after that it was a complete blank. Which was incredibly terrifying.  
He groaned as he tried to sit up, His head throbbed, and his eyes burned from behind their lids, entire body aching.

Thorin huffed a sigh and crawled out of his bed, deciding a nice shower would do him some good. After he dressed he'd walk over to Dís', beg her to take mercy on him and make him a meal, since his fridge was almost always empty, and figure out what the hell it was that everyone was talking about.

The water was ice cold, making him yell in shock and whimper when it wouldn't warm up a single half-degree. He shivered in the shower, washing his body and face incredibly quickly, head no longer thudding painfully at every beat his heart gave. He was freezing when he stepped out, muttering to himself angrily over the lack of hot water, it's only plus being that it'd soberer him up.

Still shivering, he wrapped himself in a towel, rubbing his face and beard with another towel when the smell hit him.

Grease.  
Eggs.  
Bacon.  
Sausage.  
Hash browns.

His mouth watered at the scent, and his stomach growled almost painfully, letting its hunger known. Curious, and perhaps a bit confused, Thorin pulled him boxers on, body still cold and wet, which he ignored in favor of his growling stomach. He turned the corner, walking down the hallway to see a small tawny-haired man, wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and one of Thorin's old band tees. His feet were bare, and unnaturally large, and hairy too, to Thorin's surprise. The man was humming to himself, some cheery tune or another, tapping his left foot to the beat.

Unexpectedly, the small man turned around, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw Thorin, expression quickly forming into a pleased smile. His eyes were large and hazel, crinkling around the edges as he beamed up at Thorin. He was rather small, coming up to Thorin's shoulder or so. His face was a bit squarish, and he had a rather lovely shaped jaw, devoid of any sort of facial hair. His hair was a pale sort of sandy-brown, gleaming in the sunlight, almost tawny. His rosy lips upturned into a shy sort of grin, and his ears (which were strangely pointy) reddened as he looked up at Thorin. Flushed, the small man placed down the spatula, leaned up and pressed a gentle light kiss to Thorin's mouth.

He stood back down, smiling softly. "Hey," he said softly.

Thorin looked down at him, confused by the happy twist his heart gave, and the warmth of sexual attraction pooling into his belly. "Hi." Thorin said back, voice huskier than he'd expected it to be.

"I hope you don't mind that I ran out. I noticed your fridge was empty so I went and picked up some things. Bought coffee too."

Thorin raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." The small man hummed, placing the delightful smelling breakfast on two plates. Thorin's stomach growled again, and the small man grinned, sitting down at the kitchen table and passing Thorin a coffee as he followed.

  
Hash browns.  
Sausage.  
Eggs.  
Bacon.

 

Thorin had died and gone to heaven. He hadn't realized he was moaning from the delightful tastes on his tongue, until he'd glanced up and noticed the man staring at him with amusement. And desire. Thorin's cheeks flushed and he muttered an apology, looking away.

The small man patted his hand in sympathy. "It's all right. I'm quite flattered, really. I think we're even now, considering the way you'd made me moan last night." He winked, chewing on a crispy piece of bacon. "Or maybe not. I mean, you _were_ screaming my name when I gave you that blowie under the table."

Thorin had ~~two~~ three reactions.  
First, his face burned in horror due to the fact that apparently he'd gotten blown in the middle of the party.  
Then, he felt his heart freeze since he realized he had no idea what this man's name was, and he wasn't sure exactly how to ask.  
And lastly, he felt his dick stiffen in interest at the thought of the delectable creature in front of him even so much as looking at his cock, let alone sucking it.

The man smirked as if he knew precisely the reaction he'd caused, and he chewed on his food slowly, sliding the fork in and out of his mouth, keeping his eyes locked on Thorin the entire time. Thorin swallowed and looked away, face flaming.

Twenty minutes later, the man was on the table, moaning wantonly and wailing Thorin's name as Thorin thrusted into him, relentlessly battering on his prostate. Then Thorin reached around, and grabbed hold of the smaller man's gorgeous cock, tugging onto it, until he gave a shout, body stiffening around Thorin's cock, releasing his seed all over Thorin's hand. Thorin pumped into him, once, twice, thrice, before he reached his orgasm, moaning, body slackened with pleasure.

The smaller man patted at Thorin, muttering for him to get off. Thorin pulled out, and he turned around and smiled at him, leaning on his toes to give Thorin a long kiss as he pulled the condom off his softened cock, turning to throw it in the garbage bin.

Immediately, Thorin cursed himself, remembering the things he had to do. But it wasn't as if he could tell the man to leave, considering he's just fucked him. It would be rude, and despite what his siblings said about him, he did try to be courteous. Thorin internally sighed, deciding that he'd let him hang around for for another few hours. Maybe spend another night. Surely he wouldn't stay any longer than that.

•…•…•…•…•…•

Thorin was incredibly wrong. A week had gone by, and the man still hadn't left. And in truth, Thorin had himself to blame for that. Each time he went to tell the small man that he ought to leave, they ended up fucking. In the shower. On the washer. On the couch. In a chair. On the table. On the counter. In the closet. On Thorin's desk. On the floor. Against a wall. Sometimes (on rare occasions) they even made it to the bed.

And Thorin couldn't just tell him to leave right after giving him an orgasm, could he? (Well he could, but the thought of hurting the man's feelings made him feel inexplicably nauseous and guilty.)

So, during work, he'd called Dís' and begged her to play the mean overbearing sister and kick the man out, so Thorin wouldn't have to see his face fall or anything along the lines of that. It would nice to actually relax in his own home, alone, for the first time in days. Even if this was the best fuck he'd had in years.

But when he did come home, instead of finding his house empty, he found his sister and the small man weeping together, clutching on each other's shoulders and crying hysterically. Thorin just sighed to himself, got back in his car and drove to Dwalin's.

By the third week, Thorin realized that he could've asked his guest what his name was, the morning he'd woken up to him making breakfast, since he had gotten blackout drunk the night before it was excusable, but he'd been lying for so long it wasn't as if he could just roll over in the morning and say "I still don't know your name." Helpless, Thorin had gone to his sister again, in hopes of getting some sort of advice.

"I don't know how to tell him to leave." Thorin confided in his sister, staring at her turned back as she stirred something that smelt positively awful.

"Him? Who?" She asked, eyebrows furrowing as she glanced at him.

"The guy that's been at my house for the past three weeks.

"He's been there all this time?" She snorted, laughing at her brother's expense. Then she turned around and a light dawned in her eyes. "And what do you mean by 'Him'? You don't even know his name, do you?"

Thorin glared at her, poking the pie she'd made around with his fork. "Yes to the first question and no to the second." He muttered angrily, glaring at her. "And I like him. A lot. I just don't know how to tell him to go. Or how to ask for his name without hurting his feelings."

Dís laughed heartily, tears looking in her eyes as she clutched her stomach, snickering and snorting. After a while she calmed down, sobering up to the point where she only snorted every 10 seconds. Face straight, but still red from her hysterics, she looked at Thorin with pitying seriousness, shaking her head.

"You've certainly made a mess of things, brother dearest." She chuckled. "Well, I don't know how to tell you to get his name, since its almost been a month. As for the getting him out of your hair, you can take him out on a date, and drop him off wherever it is that he lives. Maybe you'll run into someone he knows and get his name then."

Thorin hummed to himself, looking back up at his sister. "Thanks, Dís. You're a lifesaver." He said, pecking her on the cheek.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

"Hey, do you want to go out?" Thorin murmured, nuzzling his nose into the smaller man's neck, trying his hardest not to grope him, since that would doubtlessly lead to another bout of sex.

He turned around in Thorin's arms and flashed a grin, trailing his fingers down Thorin's chest. "Yeah. I'd love to." He breathed. Then he turned away and grabbed his wallet and phone, and Thorin stared at him, wondering when it was that he'd changed his pants. Thorin shook his head, and took the smaller man's hand, intent on giving him a wonderful date before he essentially kicked him out.

(And it didn't make sense that Thorin felt guilty at that thought. The man had his own home, after all. It was only natural that Thorin would want his house back.)

•…•…•…•…•…•

"I think you'll really like this place." Thorin said, opening the door for the small sexy little man. He smiled up at Thorin coyly, and rubbed his thumb across the back of Thorin's hand, practically purring; "I think so too."

Thorin beamed with pride, grinning. "I know the owner, he's a pretty great guy, has a crap ton of kids—"

"Bilbo! Hey, Bilbo!"

Thorin snorted to himself. What kind of name was Bilbo? It wasn't even a name, at least, not one that made sense. Who really hated their kid enough to name them something so terrible? Something so miserable? Something so stupid—

The small man looked up and grinned, waving at a familiar hatted man. "Bofur? Hey, it's good to see you!"

Thorin's heart froze and his eyes narrowed.

First of all, how did Bofur know Bilbo? And secondly, his name was Bilbo? It was strangely fitting, but now that Thorin knew his name he felt rather stupid, and ridiculously jealous. He glared down at Bofur, wondering how it was that he off all people knew Bilbo? Bilbo was staying with him, after all. So Bofur shouldn't even look at Bilbo like that, since he was pretty much together with Thorin.

Trying to swallow his jealousy, Thorin placed a hand on Bilbo's waist, glaring down at Bofur, who only tilted his head and laughed, grinning up at Thorin.

"Agh, don't get your knickers all in a twist, Thorin. Bilbo here's been talking about you nonstop." He said, winking at Bilbo, who flushed and looked up at Thorin. "Called you something like; Majestic Cock or Majestic Fucker or Majestic Horndog…"

"Okay, Bofur." Bilbo squeaked. "I think he gets the point."

Bofur laughed, and patted Bilbo on the shoulder, flashing a grin at Thorin. "Let me know when you're up for something." He said to Thorin. "Me and the lads are wanting to do something." He gave them a mock salute, whistling jauntily and practically skipping down the street, flashing Bilbo a wink when he thought Thorin didn't notice.

Thorin noticed.

"Sorry about that…" Bilbo said, "Bofur is something else." Thorin just shook his head, and led Bilbo into the restaurant, adamant on having a fantastic date.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

The date went…well, all things considered.

It started off brilliantly, the conversation flying back and forth naturally, as if they hadn't essentially spent the past three weeks attached at the hip. They shared dinners, and drinks, and more often than once Bilbo dabbed at Thorin's face with a napkin, or leaned in for a very languid kiss, leaving Thorin's stomach in a twist.

Then, Dís had shown up and waved at Bilbo, with both of her sons in tow, Kíli on her hip and Fíli holding her hand. Then, before Thorin could say anything, she sat down with them, and then to make matters worse, instead of shooing them off, Bombur gave them some menus, but not without saying hello to Bilbo.  
Then, Dwalin and Frerin walked in, under the guise of picking something up that they ordered over the phone, but before leaving, they came over to the table and said hello to Bilbo. And then Ori and Dori came in, for no reason at all, said hello to Bilbo and then left.

The entire evening left Thorin feeling very confused and mildly pissed off.

Thorin drove Bilbo home in near silence, musing over his thoughts, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened. In all truth, he felt like he was being fucked with, and he wouldn't put it past his family to set up some big prank on him. Nervously, he wondered if the entire Bilbo thing was a prank too, if Bilbo actually did like him at all. It was a silly thought to have, a silly fear, he knew that much. Yet his knowledge over the ridiculousness of his fears didn't quell them.

They pulled to a stop at a cozy looking two-floored house, a pale cheery yellow with a round green door. Bilbo turned to him, shyly, nervously pulling on the shirt he'd stolen from Thorin. (Not that Thorin minded. He loved seeing Bilbo in his clothes, especially since it made him feel so big and powerful.)

"Do, um, do you want to come in? For some coffee?" Bilbo winced at his words. "Or something…?"

Thorin smiled over at him. "Or something."

Bilbo grinned, and excitedly hopped out of the car, waiting for Thorin on the curb, grabbing his hand happily and leading him to the front door. Still grinning, the small man gave Thorin a very wonderful kiss,then he announced he would be right back, and hopped into a very large hydrangea bush and disappeared into the undergrowth. Thorin stood on the front steps awkwardly, staring a great deal at Bilbo's front garden that melded seamlessly into the back. It was very pretty,that much was clear, even if he'd never been a flowery sort of guy. He liked it, even though it wasn't his usual type of thing. From the stone pathway and the stone stairs that led to the front door, to the cute wicker bench sitting right in front of the bushes, the entire place screamed Bilbo, and for that, Thorin adored it.

A moment later the door flew open, and Bilbo breathlessly stood in the doorway, pulling Thorin in by his collar and pressing right up against him, chest to chest. "Coffee?" He asked, sliding his hands up and down Thorin's arms.

Thorin smiled. "I believe I said something else."

Bilbo grinned and jumped him, circling his arms around Thorin's neck and twisting his legs around Thorin's hips. He tangled his hands in Thorin's hair, and viciously kissed him. Nipping him on the neck, sucking on his lower lip, clawing at his shoulders and panting in his ear.

"Thorin…" He whined. "Take me upstairs already."

Thorin eagerly did, growling in Bilbo's ear as he pushed open the door, pressing Bilbo into the bed and rutting up against him, trailing his fingers on Bilbo's hot skin as he moaned. Thorin smirked up at him, and kissed his belly, slowly sidling downwards until he reached the fly of Bilbo's jeans.

"Hurry up and do it you tease!" Bilbo hissed, his angry mutters turning into moans as Thorin pulled his jeans down and mouthed at his cock, drawing it out of his pants and kissing the tip, grinning at Bilbo's curses.

The next morning when Thorin made to leave, Bilbo dragged him back into bed, straddled him and fucked Thorin so hard that his dick ached and his throat was raw afterwards. When Thorin finally did have to leave, to get ready for work, Bilbo had left with him, and nearly made Thorin late because Bilbo had jerked him off in the shower they took together. The next couple of times he came home, Bilbo's car was in the driveway and groceries were in the fridge, some song or another playing on the radio as Bilbo whipped up a meal that had Thorin weeping. And when Bilbo wasn't there, Thorin was at his house, learning how to bake, dancing around in his underwear with a man he absolutely adored. And when they weren't at each other's house, they were out on the town, together, having Game Night with Frerin and Dwalin, going to a museum Thorin had been dying to see, making dinner at Dís', visiting Bilbo's many cousins. It didn't occur to Thorin that they'd been attached to the hip for a year until Bilbo finally brought it up, resting his head in Thorin's lap as Thorin braided alongside his ear.

"Do you know why I didn't leave?" He asked, opening his hazel eyes and smiling up at Thorin. He was wearing another one of Thorin's tee shirts, an old band one, paired with dark blue jeans. His oversized feet were in the grass, extended out in front of him as Thorin trailed his hand across Bilbo's strangely pointy ear, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't want to." He grinned. "But I didn't mean to stay longer than two days. And then I realized you hadn't said my name once. So I told myself, 'when he says your name you can go', but you didn't. And then your brother and Dwalin came by, by the way, they were both quite shocked that I was still there, and that you'd left the party with me in the first place. So they made a bet on how long I'd be able to stay without you losing it and getting tired of me. So then all of your relatives kept on stopping by, trying to get to know me, to make a guess as to when I'd leave."

Thorin rolled his eyes, completely unsurprised.

"Do you know who won, though?" Bilbo asked, grinning up at Thorin. "Fíli. The little tyke said I'd never leave. And let me tell you, that six year old made some major bank."


	11. What To Do When A Dwarf King Stares At You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bilbo saves Thorin's life from Azog, he notices that the dwarf king is paying him an extra special amount of attention, and he really had no idea what to make of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1 in the morning, and I still haven't cleaned my room, or wrote the draft for my papers, but um at least I wrote this new fantastic one shot, eh? This is inspired a lot from tumblr headcanons and prompts floating around in my head, and it was supposed to be from Thorin's POV and fairly short, but this monster happened instead.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!
> 
> EDIT: I just went back and corrected the majority of my typos and spelling mistakes. There might be a ton more, so if you spot any, don't hesitate to inform me.
> 
> Second edit: If anyone is interested, go check out the first chapter of my new series: The Thrush and The Raven
> 
> [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4210716/chapters/9515895)

_Of course_ Bilbo had noticed. He was an odd hobbit, not a witless one.

To say that it hadn't bothered him at first, would be completely untrue. He noticed, and it bothered him, and he didn't really know quite what to make of it. In fact, it confused him at first, and he wondered if perhaps Thorin's injury had actually gone to his head, because for the life of him, Thorin would not stop staring.

It took him a while to notice, he would be reluctant to admit, but he did notice and it was quite unnerving. Bilbo had been relaxing at the riverside at Beorn's, dipping his toes in the water, humming to himself, fishing for the fun of it, closing his eyes and enjoying the sun. After a while, he had let his makeshift fishing pole dangle in the water, and he leaned back on the ground and closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth of the sun grazing over his skin. And then he heard a branch snap, and the sound of a heavy dwarfish boot tromping through the undergrowth. Startled, Bilbo looked up, and met the eyes of a watchful Thorin Oakenshield.

The king stared at him for a moment, eyes boring deep into him, his gaze strange, almost predatory. Bilbo flinched from it, and looked down, tucking a stubborn piece of hair behind his pointed ear. Chewing on his lip, he chanced another look, and yes, Thorin was still there, still staring at him, but his gaze was locked on something else. Bilbo's hair flew from its spot behind his ear, and Bilbo quickly tucked it back, not missing the way Thorin watched his hand move. Another moment passed, and something akin to fear began to unfold in Bilbo's chest, and the poor hobbit could not take it. Bilbo jumped up, looked away from Thorin and scampered off into the forest, stomach oddly fluttering and chest strangely tight.

The second time Bilbo had noticed, he was sitting by the fire, celebrating with the rest of dwarfs for their escape from Azog and Bilbo's heroism. Bofur began a song about Bilbo's bravery, and he must have practiced it with the other dwarfs, or perhaps they were quite good at improvisation, because they all sang in perfect harmony, and their instruments complemented the time perfectly, but the song itself was very cheerful and quite flattering. Bilbo had rolled his eyes at them, and shown Bombur the fish he'd caught earlier that day for dinner, face flushing when the dwarfs kissed him on both cheeks and passed him around. Bilbo was quite red when he sat down, looking at the bottom of the campfire, trusting in his overgrown hair and fringe to obscure the view of his blushing face. Breathing a sigh, Bilbo looked up, blush returning with full force when he saw that Thorin was staring at him. Again.

After his third serving from dinner, Bilbo muttered an excuse that he was quite tired, ignoring the outcries and begs from his dwarfs to stay, and retreated into Beorn's hay loft, where he set up his bedroll, peeled off his top layers and laid down. He spent a large amount of time staring at the hay next to him, trying to count each individual strand, and he supposed he must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes,it was far darker,and he had the strange feeling of being watched. Bilbo peered into the darkness, blinking heavily, waiting for his eyes to adjust and then he saw him. Thorin. Leaning against a supporting beam, staring down at Bilbo.

Bilbo huffed and tried to go back to sleep, but it was to no avail, and the suddenly fully awake hobbit, who was feeling extremely embarrassed for some reason, buttoned up his shirt all the way and stepped out into the night, not bothering with a waistcoat or jacket. He breathed deeply, staring at the trees as the sun slowly peeked over the edge, painting the deep blue sky violet and pink.

After that night, Bilbo had kept close watch on himself, and actually began to subtly avoid Thorin. The old Thorin he could handle. The old Thorin was  rude, sneering, frowning and grumpy, which was something Bilbo could easily deal with. A quiet, watchful, and hovering Thorin he could not. Bilbo had just taken a dip into the river, bathing with the soap Beorn had graciously given him. He was washed and dried, and purposely hid behind a boulder should Thorin come near. He was sitting on a rock, sunbathing, as he struggled to get out all the tangles in his hair. His curls had grown quite long, and were very loathsome to deal with. Hissing in pain, Bilbo pulled the comb away from his hair, clutching at his sore scalp.

Then, there was suddenly a furnace like warmth at his back, and a familiar chest pressing up against him. Bilbo squeaked in surprise and looked up at Thorin, who was staring down at him, again. "Do you need assistance?" The dwarf asked, low voice vibrating between them.

"Ah, pardon?" Bilbo said, squinting at the tall dwarf.

"Your hair. Do you need any assistance?"

Face flushing, Bilbo nodded and looked up at Thorin, handing the comb. "Yes, please."

Thorin sat down behind him, and pulled him closer, practically seating Bilbo in his lap. Thorin was careful, and strangely enough; extremely gentle. After what felt like an age of Thorin combing through his hair, carefully untangling the curls, the comb was placed down, and in an extremely bold move, Thorin began caressing Bilbo's head, thick fingers treading softly on his scalp. Bilbo sighed and all about turned to mush, relaxing in Thorin's grasp, leaning against the dwarf, becoming awfully sleepy. Then, Thorin exhaled softly, his breath a warm ghost across Bilbo's neck.

"Might I braid your hair?" The dwarf rumbled, voice just the right pitch, making something warm curl right in Bilbo's gut, and the hobbit shivered.

Against his better self, Bilbo nodded, exhaling out a breathy yes, insisting that he wouldn't mind one bit. Behind him, Thorin chuckled, carefully beginning to part his hair, still massaging the scalp. Then, Thorin began to braid, gently tugging and pulling, moving Bilbo's hair about in the right places, and very unexpectedly, a large finger brushed against Bilbo's left ear.

The hobbit squeaked, and went rigid, no longer a comfortable pile of mush in Thorin's lap. He blushed, feeling heat rush through his entire body, from the tips of his pointed ears, the the bottom of his hairy toes. Bilbo felt a heavy pound of lust settle in his stomach, and immediately scolded himself. It wasn't as if Thorin knew that hobbit ears were remarkably sensitive and an erogenous zone past puberty.

Then Thorin's fingers brushed it again, and the heavy throb of lust came to Bilbo's belly a second time. Bilbo bit his lip, trying his hardest not to become aroused, to calm himself and settle down, to ease the unseemly tightness growing in his loins and in his pants. With each accidental caress against his ears, Bilbo very well nearly keened, and he caught his hips jutting forward and disguised it as shifting his spot, rather than a thrust into open air to relieve the pressure building within him.Thorin finished off the braid, and this time, his hand deliberately sought out Bilbo's ear, tweaking and twisting it, dragging a digit just along the top.

Bilbo made a horrid sound, a terrified sort of squeak that made Thorin chuckle.

"Ticklish?" He murmured, hot breath hitting the side of Bilbo's neck as he leaned forward and twiddled with his ear again. Bilbo made another sound, a low groan that he tried to disguise as a cough. His face reddened and he immediately shot away from Thorin.

"Ah. Er, thank you for helping me… but I– I just be getting off now." Bilbo winced at his words, wanting to smack himself in the face. "Ah, that is, I mean to say that I'm busy and I have to leave right this instant." Bilbo said hurriedly, face turning a bright red as Thorin continued to stare at him, quite confused.

Bilbo eased himself off the rock, waving goodbye once, and then took off, running away as fast as he could before the troublemaker that was Thorin Oakenshield, before he could turn those gorgeous eyes of his on Bilbo and touch his ears a second time.

And if Bilbo dove into the forest for a vicious and much needed wank, that was no one's business but his own.

After what Bilbo called "The Ear Incident", Bilbo avoided Thorin completely, completely unsubtle this time. When the dwarf entered the room, Bilbo would mutter an excuse about making flower crowns or needing to relieve himself or pretending to be tired;anything to avoid Thorin. When the dwarf caught him out in the open, called his name and walked towards him, Bilbo would dive into the underbrush and pull on his ring, holding his breath as the confused dwarf walked right past where he was hiding. The others did seem to notice Bilbo's constant avoidance of the dwarf King, but instead of being offended as he had expected them to be, most approached the topic with mirth.

The majority of the company seemed to take it as a joke, if anything. Just to see Bilbo panic and hide, Nori would announce that Thorin was coming, bursting into laughter when Bilbo realized that wasn't the case. Balin seemed to regard him with pity, and Dwalin was extremely sympathetic, giving him a pat on the shoulder going as far as to say "He's a clot-head. Just…try not to be to hard on him." Bifur was understanding, or at least Bilbo thought so, since the dwarf grabbed him by the shoulders, exclaimed heartily in Khuzdul and gave him a surprising, but very welcome hug. Bofur, just to be mischievous would pull Bilbo in his lap, when it was impossible to avoid Thorin, and would purposely make very suggestive comments, which made Bilbo squirm and blush, and Bilbo never checked Thorin's reaction because he feared what he would see, but after he'd had enough, he would push Bofur away and head towards the bunnies' den, donning his ring before anyone could catch up to him. Fíli and Kíli often helped him hide, making a game of it and purposely misleading their uncle by throwing their voices while imitating Bilbo. Bilbo took to sneaking around Beorn's farm, climbing trees and diving into ponds whenever he felt like Thorin was nearby, and he was almost always correct about it.

Eventually though, Fíli came to Bilbo's perch in the grand oak tree in Beorn's garden, climbing up next to him and giving him a long examining look. "I think you might want to stop avoiding Thorin now." He said slowly. "He seems rather…hurt by this."

And immediately Bilbo's heart clenched with guilt and his stomach flipped over. He hadn't meant to hurt Thorin. He just wanted to sit and think for a while, figure out why it was that their cursed embrace often lingered in his dreams, and that he often woke aching for the feeling of Thorin's callused fingers on his face, his bearded mouth…

No. That was too dangerous a thought. Too dangerous and too selfish, that was for sure. Bilbo knew better, knew better than to get caught up in fanciful ideas and imaginations, but his own predilections for the dwarf King, as well as the internal chaos it ensued, was his business, and it would not do to hurt Thorin in the process. The idea of doing so made his heart ache.

So nodding reluctantly, he climbed down from his perch, and Fíli thanked him, promising to give him half his dinner for the next week, but Bilbo just laughed, and told him that it wasn't necessary.

Out of boredom, Bilbo decided that he would like to go scrounging for berries, knowing they would be plentiful and perfectly ripe at this point of year. He did indeed find berries, specifically blackberries that were so sweet, they made his mouth pucker, and he was thinking to himself of how lovely it would to to share with someone who loved berries as much as he, there was a sudden presence behind him. And he didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

Instead he continued his snack, pausing to speak. "You are more than invited to eat some, if you'd like." And at a great speed, Thorin was suddenly sitting by his side, swallowing berries by the handful, juice staining his fingers and his lips. And they ate until their bellies were full, which meant they ate quite a bit, since dwarfs and hobbits have large appetites. Then they laid side by side, staring up at the sky, but not speaking. Eventually, Thorin sat up to leave, and he must have thought Bilbo sleeping, because he sighed and mumured a quiet word, curling a hand around his cheek, and caressing the tip of his ear very gently. And for some strange reason that Bilbo was quite unsure of, he didn't move or open his eyes. He laid there, basking in the gentle warmth of the sun, the masculine heat pouring off of Thorin, the breeze blowing on his face. And then Thorin had left.

Four days later, they departed for Mirkwood, and no one had seen what was coming for them. Bilbo had many sleepless nights, wary and fearful of the bright eyes peering down at him from the depths of the wood, and unsurprisingly Thorin had noticed. Thorin commanded Bilbo to rest next to him, curling his larger body around Bilbo's in the complete darkness, Bilbo pressing his face in the warm expanse of Thorin's chest, listening to the heartbeat. When the hunger struck, Thorin pulled Bilbo to him, resting Bilbo's head in his lap, caressing his ears, his face, murmuring lullabies and random thoughts in khuzdul, distracting him from the gnawing within his stomach.

When they were captured, Bilbo spent many nights, crawling around in the dark depths of Thranduil's dungeon, searching around in the dark, hoping that he would find Thorin. And eventually he did. He stumbled against the bars, and reached for Thorin, removing his magic ring and whispering his love's name. For he did realize, during those long hours/days/weeks of searching, that he did love Thorin, and if he was to die from exhaustion and starvation let it be next to Thorin at least.

Thorin was yelling his name, panicked and terrified, and all Bilbo could do was smile as Thorin grabbed onto the lapel of his too large waistcoat and pull him against the bars, shaking him and trying to rouse him from his stupor. Thorin was crying then, and Bilbo's heartbeat slowed down, his fingers reaching for his parents just beyond the veil of life.

When Bilbo awoke, he was in a large fluffy bed, his head swam and his body ached, and the hobbit nearly wept with relief at being alive. Thorin was at his bedside, bereft and terrified, he looked down at Bilbo, so very afraid, like Bilbo was a fragile thing made of glass and feathers. And when Bilbo had remarked as such, tears fell from Thorin's eyes, and Bilbo looked down at his own body, realizing then just how thin and pale and haggard he had become.

Bilbo urged Thorin to come lay next to him, and the dwarf did, removing his boots and laying next to Bilbo, curling their bodies together. He tangled their legs, and settled right against Bilbo, pulling the frail hobbit to his chest and breathing him in, shoulders shaking as Thorin felt the angular juts and protruding bones of his hobbit.

As it turned out, Thorin had bargained with Thranduil, agreeing to any and all of his terms if they would please just get some help for his hobbit. Bilbo felt guilty that Thorin had to bargain with his greatest enemy for Bilbo's sake, and when he'd expressed that, Thorin had shouted that he didn't damn well care if he had to make a deal with Smaug himself if it meant Bilbo would live.

They stayed in The Woodland Realm for what could have been weeks, Bilbo had no way of telling. He slept, and he ate, and he bathed and spoke briefly with others and then he slept and ate some more. When it was time for them to leave, the elves had gifted Bilbo with various articles of clothing, and repaired those which he'd been wearing when he fainted. Apparently hobbits were something of a rare and coveted things for elves, and many of them tried to convince Bilbo to stay, but Bilbo had a job to do, and he wanted to be by Thorin's side.

It was a great relief (and terrible stench) when Bilbo discovered Smaug dead. The poor thing had choked on some bones, apparently, which was a disappointing death for a dragon. Bilbo found the Arkenstone that same day, and gifted it to Thorin, who snapped it back into place above his throne and pulled Bilbo into his lap, caressing his ears.

Bilbo moaned loudly at the continued pressure of Thorin's thick and callused fingers over his ears, and Thorin pulled back, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo panted in Thorin's lap, trying to regain some air of propriety. "Hobbit ears are extremely sensitive. Best left alone for bed play, and the hands of lovers."

Thorin looked positively shocked at the notion. "Then all this time…?"

Bilbo laughed. "You'd been driving me mad, but i didn't know how to tell you."

Thorin laughed then too, pressing his forehead against Bilbo's. Rubbing their noses together and trailing his lips over Bilbo's throat, traveling upwards to nip and lick at his ear, grinning as Bilbo howled.

Later, much to Bilbo's dismay and Thorin's annoyance (for being interrupted) Dain strode into the throne room, and turned out on his heel, laughing hysterically when he saw his cousin, the prideful Thorin Oakenshield on his knees with a hobbit's cock in his mouth. (Which was quite a bad idea on his part. There were several far more appropriate places for intimate actions.)

It was perhaps unfair that Thorin had discovered Bilbo's weakness so early in their relationship, and the cheeky dwarf often left his husband flustered just for the fun of it, but Bilbo got him back tenfold when he decided to slip on his ring, crawl underneath the table and give his husband a very sneaky handjob that had Thorin gasping and red-faced during a meeting with his advisors. Luckily, Balin had caught on to the Prince Consort's harassment and teasing, so he had ushered everyone out before Thorin could traumatize an innocent group of dwarfs, who still can't quite understand why it was their king sometimes gasped and grunted and whined during a meeting or two.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you have to say! What you liked, what you didn't, what to improove. Comments, questions and kudos are appreciated.


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